


Hostis Humani Generis

by lalunaticscribe



Category: Overlord | オーバーロード
Genre: Multi, Naga, Other, Pirate Guild, RPG, Self-Indulgent, Worldbuilding, i have no idea what I'm doing with this, pirates!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-24 23:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 151,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaticscribe/pseuds/lalunaticscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is more than one way to become an Evil Overlord. Just as there is more than one way through YGGDRASIL, as there can be more things under heaven and earth that can be dreamt of.</p><p>Just as there can be a grave of monsters, so can there be a fleet of monsters, setting out to become the enemy of mankind.</p><p>OCSI, AR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue : Adrift

“I'm sorry.”

There were two people standing under a large tree.

The speaker wore an elaborately embroidered jet-black academic gown, adorned with gold and violet hemming The decoration around its neck seemed somewhat excessive, but rather fitting with the rest of it. The head that should have been sitting above the lavish collar was nothing more than a skull, devoid of skin and flesh. There was a dark red glow inside the empty eye sockets, and a dark halo-like object glimmered behind its head. The former was an Overlord that ranked top even among the Elder Liches — Magic Casters who had turned into the undead in the pursuit of ultimate magic.

An ORZ icon appeared above the Elder Lich. It was the last time, though not the first, that Momonga had demonstrated that expression. Just as it was not the first time that the Nagī had applied to Ainz Ooal Gown and was rejected.

“It is decided by majority vote, Sycorax-san,” Momonga-san explained some more. “Your skill build doesn't fit our guild ideal. It's not you.”

“Momonga-san, I have a job. I'm playing a heteromorphic race. How do I not qualify?”

As a Nagini, an Oriental offshoot of the Gorgons and both descendants of the enemy race of Dragons, Sycorax had the ability to transform my shape to some extent. To that effect, she looked human, and now she wore a white shirt and dark trousers along with light armour and a cutlass by her belt. Next to the Elder Lich, she did not look like a monster until she removed the glamour. She looked like a plain human, albeit one dressed like a sailor.

Yet, they were not monsters.

The selectable races in Yggdrasil were divided into three diverse categories: classic humanoids such as Humans, Dwarves and Elves. Demi-human races with hideous appearances such as Goblins, Orcs, and Ogres. Heteromorphic races who possessed monster abilities and higher stats than any other races, but were given restrictions in various aspects. The number of all the races reached a total of seven hundred if the high-tier races were included, covering Overlords and Nagas.

“I do not know, Sycorax-san. I will talk to Touch Me-san.” Momonga nodded. “I am sorry.”

“Thank you, Momonga-san. You're a great friend. I wanted to make friends, so...”

“I see.”

“Momonga-san... we're friends, right? No matter what?”

“Of course, Sycorax-san. You are my friend.”

* * *

_DMMO-RPG._

_Standing for <Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game>, it is an interactive game in a virtual world, played by connecting a dedicated console to the neuron nano-interface— an intra-cerebral nano-computer network composed from the quintessence of cyber- and nanotechnology._

_Amongst these commercial paracosms, there stood one title:_

_YGGDRASIL._

_Released in 2126, it stood above all other DMMO-RPGs due to its expansive maps and unusually high player freedom. This obviously made it especially popular within Japan, its home country and the only country it was made commercial in._

_Now, twelve years later, YGGDRASIL is about to end._

* * *

The centre of the game world, Yggdrasil, was based to some extent on Norse mythology; one tree with three great roots, spanning nine worlds. Each tree fed into a spring. Hvergelmir of the cold Niflheim, Urdarbrunnr of Asgard which ruled over all, and Mimisbrunnr of Jötunheimr were their names.

In the rocky tundra of Jötunheimr was a lake. In this lake lay a sparkling ship that looked like it had been made of glass, from the thick hand-spans of its seaworthy hull, to the delicate riggings upon its three masts and mizzen. Under the sea of stars, it resembled some fairy ship, set out upon the mists that scattered across Mimisbrunnr towards the skies themselves.

On the foredeck, seated upon a throne, a delicate hand covered in rings held two fingers up to her temple.

「Message」

The ringing of a dial tone echoed slightly, before there was a pick up.

「Sycorax-san?」

「Momonga-san! As expected of the Guild Master. You're staying until the end as well?」

「Yes, Sycorax-san. As well... how are you?」

「I'm the same as you. I might not have a dungeon as large as Nazarick, but everyone left the Fomori fleet.」

「We haven't talked a lot since you founded a guild, Sycorax-san. You'll still be welcoming those who might come?」

「Of course. But so far I've been checking out the treasury, wearing more shiny equipment, and so on... and I've assembled the fleet's top commanders to kneel before me.」

「That's a bit... extreme, Sycorax-san...」

「As if you've never done that.」

「...」

「...no way. You did.」

「I- it's the last day! I'm sure everyone would forgive me if I did whatever I wanted today.」

「Yeah, I know. I moved the fleet to Mimisbrunnr just to watch the skies.」

「Sycorax-san, you already control Mimir's well, please don't park your fleet on it as well.」

「I miss it, Momonga-san. Minutes to go and soon we'll be logged out.」

「...」

「Everyone left in the end, Momonga-san. In the end, you're my only friend.」

「My name is Suzuki Satoru.」

「Eh?」

「That's my RL name.」

「Oh. I'm... I can't say it.」

「I- I don't mean to press-」

「It's too embarrassing.」

「Eh?」

「...Michelle Kaiō. In Japanese it's Michiru.」

「...I see.」

「...」

「... is there a Ha-」

「STOP! IT'S EMBARRASSING!」

「-look, eight seconds. Four...」

「Three... I'm glad you're here.」

「Me too. Let's...」

「...meet...」


	2. I: At Anchor

Mists rolled about the deck of the ship. Compared to its wooden brethren, what was different about this ship, and its sisters joined to its aft with thick and heavy chains, was the material. This one that had just appeared was translucent, wisps of smoke spiralling from its surface. It was like it was made of crystal — even the sails, riggings and chains – were of the same material, making one wonder whether it really functioned as a ship, bathed in white and glowing like fireflies over the mirrored surface of the water.

Aboard the bridge of such a vessel, clawed fingers drummed a tattoo as the woman blinked slowly, though the emerald eye-patch covering her left eye and part of her cheek made it stand out, against the paleness of her face and the stacked coils of white hair piled upon her head. Her lone remaining eye glittered with a verdant sheen, the slit of its pupil like the ridge of a cat's eye sapphire. She wore a silk blouse of deep blue under a seaweed bolero jacket, covered with silver jewellery amidst sparks of gold and other colours of jewels. From under her hips, there coiled a long snake tail covered in ridged scales and patterned with stripes of green and blue which was half of her, for she was a Nagini.

She was human, playing a Nagini, until now.

She raised a hand, trying to find news on the chat channel- and stopped. There was no console, no control interface. Idly, she looked at her arm, which was pale, though scales glimmered in the light of the Fomori flagship, the _Queen of the Night_.

“W- What's going on?!”

Her claws scrambled over her skin, before she freaked again. “What the hell is happening here?!”

Surrounded by icy beauty and dressed to the nines, there was frustration in her voice at being unable to end things staring death in the face as the proud shaman queen pirate of the guild, Hostis Humani Generis. There should have been no response to her exclamation or alarm. However...

“Is everything alright?”

The speaker was a young man with black curls falling to the nape of his neck. He was handsome, almost delicate fine-boned save that he stood taller than anyone would expect in a blue shirt and black trousers. The sclera of his eyes were filled with blackness, leaving the white swirls of his pupils readily apparent. As a Kelpie, she knew that this was not his true form, but one more suited for naval life as the commander of the Fleet's First Division.

It was the first time she had heard such a deep, rumbling voice, and she froze in terror.

“Sycorax-sama?” he repeated, fiercer. “Are you alright? Do you need to be attended to? Did something happen to you? I'll call the sick bay immediately-”

“I'm fine.” She squinted at him. “Nereus?”

“Yes, Sycorax-sama. Nagato, what took you so long?”

Dazedly, she blinked at him, and then looked around, her eyes resting upon the bridge's sole other occupant. Long black hair fell past her back, framing her silhouette and the skimpy high-collar, black-and-white metal bodice-and-skirt combination, with red and black stockings. The stockings were held up by a garter belt trailing underneath her thighs, leading down to heeled boots up to her ankles. Her red eyes sparkled with an inner light, almost like twin pinpricks of LEDs, belying her Automaton race.

Idly, Sycorax reflected that Nagato's creator, Rear Admiral, had been a graduate student focused on a century-old browser game for his Cultural Studies thesis. Somehow, he had also decided that the best Automaton would be the anthropomorphic personification of a battleship. There had been unpleasant moments between Rear Admiral and Titania, who was the creator of Nereus.

“The cold disrupted my response functions for a moment.” Her reply was quick and blatant in ignoring Nereus. “My apologies for my neglect, Admiral. Has something happened to you?”

“... the GM call function won't work,” Sycorax lamely replied.

Nagato had a human expression of concern. “Forgive me, Admiral. I do not know what is this GM call. Nereus?”

“I, too, do not know what Sycorax-sama means. Please forgive my ignorance.”

“No, it's alright.” Sycorax grimaced. “Stand down, the both of you.”

They did so, with faces of regret. Sycorax sighed, before she shook her head, causing her white hair to scatter about as she traced her jaw, having realised that her mouth was moving.

“Nereus!”

“Yes, Sycorax-sama?” Nereus bowed his head, still kneeling before her.”

“Raise the watches,” Sycorax babbled. “Leave the ship, search the surrounding areas at a one-kilometre radius. If you meet any intelligent or non-hostile beings, invite them back. No fighting allowed.”

“Aye! As you command.”

Sycorax's lips thinned. It should have been impossible for Nereus to leave the fleet's ships, having been created to safeguard it. No, she had to reserve her judgement for when he actually came back with news. “Take Huginn, Muninn, and the Nereids as well. If you have to retreat, bring the information to me.”

“As you command.”

Sycorax nodded, drawing herself up as Nereus left the bridge. From around her neck she traced the largest of her necklaces – a large gold collar, studded with rainbow jewels and edged with orichalcum and adamantite.

Nagato followed the clawed finger of Sycorax with her eyes, watching carefully, ready to step in if Sycorax failed to reach the icy throne dominating the centre of the bridge on its small platform. “Admiral, that necklace...”

“Hmm? Oh, this is the guild weapon of Hostis Humani Generis, One Piece.” Sycorax sighed, hoisting herself into the throne.

“That's...! A divine weapon that only the Admiralty can touch...” Nagato whispered, before restraining herself. “It is impressive, Admiral.”

Sycorax ignored her, considering that the next step would be–

“....contacting the company.”

Considering the abnormal situation, the one would know the most about it should be the company. The problem was contacting them. Normally, Sycorax would have used the 「Shout」 or 「Call GM」 functions to establish immediate contact. That method seemed to have failed at the moment…

“Could I use「Message」?”

The game’s in-game messaging magic was only usable in certain places or situations. Right now, it could be put to good use. While this magic could be used to communicate with other players...

Sycorax started, recalling the last conversation she had had, a green film of light enveloping her as she desperately began contacting her last remaining friend.

「Momonga-san!」

「Sycorax-san?! I'm glad you're safe. Where are you?」

「I- I don't know. The NPCs on my fleet are alive, Momonga-san!」

「What a coincidence. It's the same here. They have all become biological beings.」

「Are you alright, Momonga-san? You don't sound panicked.」

「Something must have happened to me Q.Q. I'm a talking skeleton!」

「...One question.」

「Yes?」

「Can you poop?」

「T- That-! _Sycorax_ -san!」

「Sorry, it's from an old manga in the 21st century. Bad joke, sorry.」

「We're surrounded by NPCs who are suddenly alive, Sycorax-san. If... if they team up on us... what should we do?」

「I don't know, but... if we're in our avatar bodies, I think we should check if we have our abilities first. I think you should check around Nazarick, and see if you can use your magic.」

「Eh? Y- You're right. Where are you now, Sycorax-san?」

「I live on a ship, Momonga-san. I can't see any landmarks. But the fact that we can communicate via 「Message」means that we're in the same world, more or less, and that we're safe.」

「I'm so glad you're alright, Sycorax-san.」

「Me too, Momonga-san. I'll try to find land and people to find a location. If we can find a common landmark, we can meet up.」

「I'll try to find a location and more people as well! I'll get started on it. Wait for my message!」

「Sure. Good luck, Momonga-san.」

「You too, Sycorax-san.」

「Uhm...」

「Yes?」

「How did you know that they are all biological beings now?」

「...trade secret.」

Sycorax huffed as the message disconnected with the faint echo of a dial tone. Beside her, Nagato stood patiently, waiting for instructions as Sycorax mulled over her options and stroked her dry, cool skin. Being a Nagini meant that she had scales, but not the snake-hair of the Gorgons, and – barring special circumstances – the petrification powers. Scratching the arm of her throne, Sycorax watched the curl of ice melt under her gaze, and then mulled over her options.

“Nagato.”

“Aye!”

“Beat to quarters. Except for Nereus and the Mary Celeste sisters, summon all of the fleet's commanders to the quarterdeck. Activate pilot boats for extra patrols during their absences.”

A frisson of shock appeared, but Nagato bowed her head. “Aye, admiral!”

“I'll be checking on the Treasure Ship.”

Nagato saluted her as she left by teleporting in the blink of an eye, before going about her duties.

* * *

Having been one of the most infamous Player-Killer guilds in YGGDRASIL, the Treasure Ship _Sequoia_ was jealously guarded, second in priority only to the _Queen of the Night_. Shaped like a Chinese treasure ship as befitted its name, delicate crystals of ice grew in fractals to create a bridge, allowing Sycorax to slide across it and onto the Fleet treasury ship.

“We are the enemy of humanity.”

Latin text scrolled across the entrance of the deck.  _Sic habebis Gloriam totius mundi, ideo fugiet a te omnis obscuritas._

“The phrase... 'By this means you will acquire the glory of the whole world, and so you will drive away all shadows and blindness.'”

The text dissipated, and the ship's lights blinked, a lamp burning nearby as the lights hovered, revealing a small face.

“Mekong, come down.” Sycorax commanded as the Will-O-Wisp descended from the ship's paper sails to hover around her head. “You're my familiar, how come you're near this ship? I appreciate your help, Celeste.”

A ghostly shape appeared before her, mist coalescing into a nun's habit with a face made indistinct by the lack of solidly defined lines. “The Admiral's pet happened to float along here.”

“Is that so? Still, thank you for ensuring the integrity of the _Sequoia_. I wish to check on the contents.”

“Of course.”

“I will go in alone.” Sycorax clarified as the ghost beckoned them towards a hatch.

“Yes, Sycorax-sama.” Celeste the ghostly nun agreed, floating away towards the bridge of the ship.

As a PK guild, they had done a fair share of raiding and stealing. Even as their numbers had dwindled, Sycorax had gone raiding dungeons and beating bosses, accumulating currency and treasures. The assigned space for each guild coding was limited without shelling out, especially for the functions that allowed the Fomori fleet to serve as their guild base. Sycorax had planned and saved for it, coding most details herself with only minor additions.

The Treasure Ship, she knew, was divided into three decks:

Currency

A rmoury

Vault

Celeste and her sister and fellow guard, Mary, knew that too, as well as how many weapons there were in stock and how much gold the Treasure Ship had. Sycorax decided that they did not need to know what Hostis Humani Generis held in the deepest vault.

The inside of the ship's decks once Sycorax descended was lit with reddish light, instead of the cool white that radiated above deck. The first deck was filled with bolted chests and tied bags, each containing gold that numbered in the tens of thousands, possibly millions. In a ship, to leave valuables around without packing was the essence of foolishness. That is why stores of gold were limited to the _Sequoia_ and _Queen of the Night_.

Sycorax slithered down the ladder towards the bottom decks, into a room slightly more organised to have wall-mounted weapons, tables, gun cabinets and crates of bullets, and a refrigerator. She dropped down into the third and last level of the Treasure Ship, Mekong's flames giving a small light as she dropped into a cloakroom, complete with hooks for hats and coats.

She twiddled the Doubloon Ring on her left ring finger, before taking off her other jewellery. She did not have the same proficiency of abilities as Momonga, but she had managed to wear and use ten rings after some research. Their proficiencies were different anyway; compared to the Elder Lich, the Nagas were better at weather manipulation and water magic, and Sycorax had the ability of weaving magic and of magic writing. It was she who had created and encoded spells into many scrolls when Hostis Humani Generis killed players who bullied the heteromorphic races. It was she, the pirate, who had kept the guild together.

In the end, though, at the twilight... she was alone, like Momonga.

Grumbling, Sycorax shed a few articles of jewellery into a waiting empty chest, leaving them aside here and there until she wore only her clothes, One Piece, and the Doubloon Ring. Then, and only then, did she advance.

The first thing that greeted her was a glass bottle sealed with a stopper of wax. It was bolted down onto its podium, bubbling as if someone had lit a Bunsen burner under it.

A pain seized her left eye upon the sight. Sycorax scowled, leaning by the icy wall of the corridor to glare impotently towards the stopper and its transparent contents.

“Yes, you're water from Mimir's well,” she snapped at the bottle. “You don't have to remind me of it, or the price needed to drink from you.”

The eyeball throbbed, waiting to evacuate the socket it had been implanted into. Grumbling, Sycorax slid around the podium, cradling her left eye in one hand to calculate the treasures set on themselves. This was the target of many guilds seeking revenge; the hoard of Sycorax, chaotic evil personified. Cash Items and Items above Legendary were stocked here, including the seven World Class Items that they had struggled so hard for.

Her hand brushed a pile of sticks interwoven with silver string set onto a shelf. She put it away into her Item Chest with an expression of worry, and a whisper of apology to the guild that was not present. Checking the other chests, she determined that they were all present before sliding back into the cloakroom for her baubles.

Climbing up to the armoury was worth it as Sycorax fished out a plain sapphire ring from a cushioned chest just for stacks and stacks of rings. The ship's rocking barely disturbed her as she threw 「Red Baron's Trousers」 and the shoes「Savates」 she found into her Item Chest. Sycorax hummed as the black cloud of displaced space winked out, before outfitting herself with a pair of knuckle-dusters,「Hurricane」. She put on a hat with a large white feather stuck inside the brim, a gift from a fire-phoenix that they had slaughtered for an event. The「Belt of the Nine Snakes」was next, and then Sycorax cast her eye about, her eyes skipping over the golden spear in the corner. She found the Relic-class 「Luck be a Lady」charm bracelet, and the Artefact-class「Derringer」. Rings such as 「Curse of Scotland」 and 「Lorelei's Tear」joined the Doubloon Ring, and she also equipped 「Piece of Eight」. As she fitted 「Derringer」 into her sleeve, she put on a pair of earrings, tucking a pen and some paper for scrolls into her pockets, and trailed knotted bracelets of woven silver onto her wrists.

She would have preferred to use the weapons down in the vault, but these were the most understated of the armoury and she knew nothing about this world. She reinforced that decision with an 「Hairpin of Sokuten」to hold up her white hair, baring her face and the eye-patch that hid another weapon.

“What do you think, Mekong?”

The wisp fizzled, sparks scattering from red to blue.

“Yes. Come.”

Now kitted out, she slid out, with the Will-O-Wisp hovering next to her. Once out of below-decks, it was simple enough to teleport to the _Queen's_ quarterdeck, a raised platform directly before the bridge and the largest section of non-occupied space anywhere in the fleet at present. It was also filled with the sounds of hammering.

“Captain!” exclaimed the small faceless figure dressed in bright yellow. A woollen cap graced his childish head, and a tobacco pipe hung from his lips. A large hammer swung in his hand, another tool of his job. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine.” Sycorax told the Klabautermann. “Thank you, Merry. You came early.”

“Ah, I was on watch, so when a beat to quarters is sounded I rushed here.”

“Good work.” Reaching for the Item Chest, Sycorax saw her hand disappear into black space, and reappear with a jug. “Have a drink as a reward for your hard work.”

“Ah...” Merry stared as two cups were summoned onto the small table upon the quarterdeck and Sycorax poured out some, handing him one. “Thank you very much, Captain!”

“You are the commander of the Seventh Division and _Larch_ , so I'm not your Captain.” Sycorax remarked in the face of his enthusiasm.

Merry shook his head. “I was created by Vice-Admiral Checky to serve under the Admiralty, but Sycorax-sama is the sole remaining member and the highest of Admirals.”

“Oh, that guy.” Sycorax observed Merry drinking, taking a small sip for herself. “Do you want some more?”

“Uh- thank you! But I have had enough...”

Suddenly a voice rang out:

“Could I be- ah, Merry beat me.”

A shadow emerged from the ground, the source of the mature yet high-pitched youthful voice. From the shadows walked out a grinning Goth punk with greyed skin and black hair chopped short, clad in leather armour and leggings and currently smoking a cigarette.

“Commander of the Third Division, Caliban has appeared, Admiral. Reporting for quarters.”

“As expected, Caliban.” Sycorax sternly replied to her own creation.

“Isn't 「Portal」forbidden to be used, Admiral?” Merry threw a look as Caliban dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out onto the wooden planks.

Caliban grinned at the Klabautermann, “It's general quarters, imp.”

“I'm not an imp!” Merry protested.

Sycorax merely sighed indulgently, pondering on how she had teased Merry's creator Checky.

Chains rattled, before the silhouette of a shadow in the black robes of a Magic Caster dropped down. Her design was almost like Sadako, which had inspired her creator CAM to make her, and then designate her a Cleric just for the irony burn. “Commander of the Fourth Division, Bonny. Reporting for quarters.”

A swoosh of feathers echoed as a man with the head of a bird and claws in hands and feet dropped down onto the railings. Besides being dressed as an archer, an English longbow as long as he was tall – about two metres – ran the length of his back, held next to a long quiver. “Commander of the Fifth Division, Phaeton. Reporting for quarters.”

“Cease the ceremony.” Sycorax dismissed.

“Phaeton...” she whispered to herself. “The only one with the most ironic name was your creator Icarus. A Birdman with the name Icarus is just asking for trouble.”

A snap of her fingers summoned a throne of ice attached to the quarterdeck of the _Queen of the Night_ , which she sat upon. “The repair, melee, magic, and aerial division commanders arrived early.”

A pair of bare feet dropped down next to Phaeton, and the dark-skinned dark-haired boy they were attached to grinned. “Commander of the Second Division, Ariel. Reporting for quarters.”

“Ariel.” Sycorax nodded. “Welcome. We're still waiting for a few people, so please be patient.”

Ariel came at the same time as slime erupted upon the icy planks of the ship, coalescing into an Elder Black Ooze which formed itself into the vaguely human shape of a naked Shapeshifter, complete with egg-head.

“Commander of the Sixth Division, Cutty Sark. Reporting for duty.”

The whinny of a horse resounded into the gloomy night of the icy fleet, as a black horse galloped up the hull and crashed down onto the quarterdeck, smoothly transforming into an artfully soaked and dishevelled Nereus.

“Commander of the First Division, Nereus. Reporting for quarters.”

“Quartermaster of the Intelligence Division under the Admiral, Nagato.” The proud sailor marched up onto the deck, head held high but posture deferential. “Reporting for quarters.”

“Your orders, Admiral?” They spoke together, as the ship's bell rung. _Ting-ting,_ _ting-ting_.

“Two am.” Sycorax reflected. “My apologies for summoning all of you at this late hour, but something has happened. Nereus, sit rep.”

“Aye.” His head was inclined. “Admiral, the Fomori Fleet has been caught in an unknown situation. We are not in Mimisbrunnr.”

Sycorax looked at him. “How do you know?”

“Aye. The taste is markedly different. The rocky terrains of Jötunheimr have also been replaced with beaches.”

“Beaches?” echoed the Admiral.

“Beaches. Sandy beaches, with wooden populations of houses next to them. Huginn and Muninn will be able to elaborate more.”

“I see. Thank you for your hard work. Ariel. Your navigational expertise is required.”

The Storm Spirit looked up. “I do not recognise the constellations, Admiral. My deepest apologies.”

Sycorax gave the night skies a glare. It was a truly beautiful sky like glitter drenched over black crepe paper, and it would be a help if it was also a familiar enough to navigate by. “I see.”

Were they programmed? No, they seemed like humans, and there was no differences that were remarkable. A program had no reason, even if it had the ability, to show such emotions. It should be assumed that due to some reason, they became like humans.

What in this world is going on? Sycorax did not know. Since the magic from YGGDRASIL could be used here, then it would be more appropriate to assume that it was a game. Yet, it was doubtful, being nothing like inside a game. Was it a different world? Possible.

To what extent did this world follow the rules of YGGDRASIL? If the monsters and NPCs were all based on the electronic data from YGGDRASIL, then there should be no enemy here at all. If there were complications, though... for the time being, she had the highest position here.

What this kind of action should be taken in the future? At the moment, intelligence and passing was the highest priority. And, if this is truly a different world...

Doubt crossed her mind. Working several jobs and then coming home only to login into YGGDRASIL, which would no longer be possible was the only fate that awaited her back there. All possibilities, however, should be laid on the table before the decision was made.

_Hast thou not gone against sincerity?_

_Hast thou not felt ashamed of thy words and deeds?_

_Hast thou not lacked vigour?_

_Hast thou exerted all efforts?_

_Hast thou not become slothful?_

“Does anyone have any idea?”

Looks were exchanged, and it was Nagato who spoke next. “No, Admiral. We cannot think of any leads.”

“I see. Well, did anything strange happen on your fleets?”

Hearing those words, each of them replied in order of their divisions:

“Nothing on the _Heart of Oak_.” Nereus smirked.

“Same for the _Cedar_.” Ariel did a back flip, somehow managing not to fall off the railings and land on his back but on his feet.

“The _Mahogany_ is fine, Admiral.” Caliban leered.

“The _Pine_ is functional.” No expression from Bonny.

“The _Spruce_ is fully functional.” relayed Phaeton.

“The _Totara_ has resisted me and this new world, Admiral.” Cutty rasped.

“The _Larch_ is fine!” Merry cheered.

“I have checked the _Queen of the Night_ , Admiral.” Nagato offered. “It is fully operational.”

Sycorax nodded, affecting the coldness befitting of the fleet's Admiral as two pairs of claws stopped upon the arms of her throne. “Huginn? Muninn?”

The twin crows nodded at her, eyes bright and aware.

“You have found land?”

Twin caws echoed.

“I see. Use 「Crystal Mirror」.”

A portal shimmered into existence, revealing the mirror-smooth sea under the bright moon, and then the image panned towards the shimmering of the ice fleet, showing their position relative to the land.

“Land sighted?” Ariel realised in shock.

“It's still at night, and not all of our ratings have night vision.” Sycorax considered. “Ariel, use mists to hide the fleet. Do you require help?”

“No, myself alone will be fine.” Ariel saluted with his palm facing inwards. “No need to disrupt Bonny.”

“If that is the case, Bonny, cast all information spells you can to hide the ships from magical surveillance. Also, work with Ariel and Nagato to create a more comprehensive communication system.”

Bonny yawned. “Got it.”

“Aye-aye!” all three of them spoke.

“Phaeton, there is a lagoon near the settlements you indicated. I need you to act as a pilot to guide us through shallow waters. Nereus will give you the necessary information.”

“Aye, Admiral!”

“Cutty Sark. Merry. I need a full inventory of the fleet's current condition. When may it be completed?”

“We'll get to it, Admiral!” Merry beamed at his job.

“Mmm.” She steepled her hands, feeling like a shitty Admiral all of a sudden. “Nagato, terminate general quarters, but do not let down your guard. Inform the ratings aboard your ships to your discretion. Set course to absolute bearing 120 degrees.”

“Yes, my Admiral!”

“Then, I will patrol the ship before turning in.” The throne dissolved back into icy water as Sycorax arose, and with a sweep of her hand thunder cracked overhead. The weather continued to rumble, a wave broke over the railings, and then she slid down a hatch to below decks, leaving silence in her wake.

* * *

The pressure that almost pushed their head into the ground suddenly disappeared without a trace. Though the meeting was concluded, and there were duties to discharge, nobody walked. After a while, someone let out a sigh of relief, and the tension was finally released.

“T- That was scary,” rasped Cutty Sark. It was a wonder how he could rasp, since he did not technically have a dry part in his body at all.

“I thought I would be crushed...” Bonny sniffed.

“Even to commanders like us, she would have such a huge effect.” Nereus shuddered. “Although I knew that she is a supreme being, stronger than all of us... I did not expect such an extent.”

The pressure that they had felt, was actually an aura around Sycorax, 「Scylla & Charybdis」. In addition to the Terror effect, it could also reduce the stats of a player, leaving them stuck between the unpalatable choice of being torn apart or being slowly poisoned to death. Normally, it would not affect level 100 NPCs, but the Fleet's presence had made it stronger.

“Admiral is a nice person!” Merry chirped.

“Our admiral has displayed incredible will befitting a pirate of her stature.” Phaeton's wings fluttered behind him.

“Yes, before we announced ourselves she did not reveal his true abilities, but once we assumed our roles, Admiral came.” Caliban agreed. “Too bad Bonny cried.”

“It is as the Admiralty wills it.” Ariel intoned, ignoring the erupting argument.

There were sighs of thankfulness and gratitude. Hope in the future, bright eyes that sleep did not touch, dreamy smiles hoping for the next order. For any creature created by a superior being, it must seem normal for them to assist their creator in hope of their recognition.

“Nagato?” Nereus considered the Automaton. “You haven't said anything.”

“Is there a need to say anything?” came the matter-of-fact reply. “Sycorax-sama has applied flawless reasoning to our plans. It is now our part to play. Everything is going as the Admiralty wills. I must attend to the Admiral on her patrol now.”

“Yes, you're right.” Nereus agreed as Nagato stalked off. “Sycorax-sama is the last of the Admiralty left. As the highest Admiral, we must protect her. But, speaking of the Admiralty's will... Ariel?”

“Hmm?” the storm spirit was floating about the rigging.

“What are you wearing?”

Ariel brandished his arms, showing off the flowing robe of gauzy silk that barely concealed anything. “Oh, my creator, Vice-Admiral Librobum Prohibitorium, created me with this. He said it was something called sex appeal to Sycorax-sama's theme.”

“I see. Then keep it.” Nereus shrugged.

Since they were tools meant to serve the supreme beings that created them, their course was obviously to follow the will of the Admiralty.

“Now then, shall we begin?”


	3. II: Absolute Bearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: updated 20 Jun 2016: Caliban's the Knight, Nereus is the Thief. – LLS

 

In YGGDRASIL, guilds were an association of players that have banded together to become conqueror of all secrets in YGGDRASIL. This involves, levelling up, conquering dungeons, participating in game events and even challenging other guilds. Guilds served as a way to make the gaming experience more enjoyable with friends while players go on quests, The purpose of a guild was both social and practical, since player-killing – amongst many practices – was a pastime for many sadistic guilds that prey on new players to the game. By congregating together, guilds could amass money and power enough to form a base. Protecting players from constant harassment and allowing them time to cultivate their levels in order to gain more experience was the duty of a guild, and supervising its internal and external operations was the duty of the guild master.

Hostis Humani Generis had been unique in being the only guild who was based at sea, being a more-or-less piratical guild, as well as having a moving base in the form of the Fomori Fleet. They had been likened to supernatural creatures sweeping in from the seas during the event 'Emerald Isle' that made their name famous, especially since all of its members played heteromorphic races. How it had been achieved, no one could figure it out, since most guilds chose to make their bases on land or in the air.

It was for that reason that Sycorax chose to make the base of Hostis Humani Generis a fleet. That, and a certain old animé, but mainly for the experience of sailing a blue-water navy. The completion of their guild weapon, poured from much coding, slaying of monsters, dungeon raids and mugging players, had facilitated their fleet, especially since they could run away where most guilds could not follow. It had remained the same after Sycorax had seized Mimisbrunnr, except by then players left and right had jumped ship from YGGDRASIL.

As Sycorax awoke in her quarters, though, she could not figure out how a small apartment could have squeezed into the _Queen of the Night_. The walls glowed in their eerie light, provided by the core of the fleet which slept somewhere amongst the ships of the fleet, hidden as to protect the fleet. Though the fleet's construction and connection depended on One Piece, a separate core was still needed to keep up the maintenance in-game. It seemed that the same principles applied here as well.

Blearily, Sycorax floated out of her hammock using flight magic. It seemed a waste, but the room was filled with all kinds of different items, almost running out of space. Clothes, weapons and artefacts, all kinds of equipment and items had been stored here for her use, even after the armour and weapons had become rather useless to her.

By killing monsters in YGGDRASIL, data crystals would drop. These crystals could be attached to items afterwards and countless original items could be created this way. If there was an awesome item for sale, there would be a great demand for it.

As a result of Sycorax being part of the Scribe class, magic scrolls took up the majority of the treasures. As a result of drinking the water of Mimisbrunnr, weapons also took their place.

Carefully floating by both the magic of 「Fly」and innate racial skills, Sycorax twisted herself out of her room and into the dressing room. It was more of a walk-in closet, except that as members had retired and left her their possessions, the dress-room had morphed into another storeroom of sorts of weapons and armour.

Picking up a staff, Sycorax clucked her tongue. Her Pirate class had included the 「Combat Pragmatist」ability, which allowed her to use weapons even for unintended purposes. Then again, this was a different world. Momonga had told her that class restrictions on equipment still applied, but she had no way to verify that.

Tossing them aside, Sycorax considered herself in the full-length mirror. Her scales shimmered, changing from green to white to a muddy brown with every shift in light. Very slowly, Sycorax traced her navel, and reached down to touch... smooth scales plated over.

“I think I'll be traumatised.” Sycorax made a face, recalling her instructions to Nagato three days and a night ago. Sycorax was supposed to disembark at- what time was it.

The ship's bell answered, ringing throughout the ship with the precise timing needed. _Ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting_.

“Morning watch ended,” she concluded, opening the porthole to allow a pair of crows in. “I wonder why I slept in... and, we should probably talk about a different watch system. Huginn, Muninn. 「Crystal Mirror」”

Studying the images that appeared upon the image conjured, Sycorax nodded to herself. “A human village... European-style clothings, but trousers included. And their attitude to monsters?”

Sycorax winced as the image changed to fishermen stabbing a hapless Merman through his spine. “Alright then. No point alienating ourselves to the locals for now.”

Sycorax activated the Divine-class 「Ring of Doppelgänger」 by putting it on, watching her appearance change due to the 「Transformation」spell within it. Soon, human legs came into view, her scales cleared up, and she checked herself to make sure the illusion was perfect as a one-eyed white-haired girl. Although the Nagas had cloaking magic, it would have defeated the point of the exercise if she went unseen, after all.

Throwing on a blue blouse and a black bolero jacket, she matched it with the 「Red Baron's Trousers」and 「Savates」she had stored away, before throwing on a 「Scarf of the Thief」to match and a「Skipper Hat」. Her rings were slid on, as well as 「Derringer」and 「Luck be a Lady」before she sauntered out, locking the apartment on her way out to the deck.

A breeze swept her face, as it had for the past three days she had been above deck. She cast her eyes about the ships of the fleet, most of which had dropped anchor in the littoral zone around the small island just off the coast of the main continental line her crows had sighted last night. Save for the _Totara_ and _Larch_ , both supply ships currently operating, the other ships were simply stationary on the water, sails tacked and oars, if any, were still. The Sequoia, now bathed in sunlight, was obvious covered in greenery, a miniature floating orchard given that most of its space was above-deck rather than below.

Very carefully, Sycorax looked around, and spotted Mekong floating into her dress-room. Despite all the ships being composed of frozen water, an onboard fire would be both ironic and disastrous to their food supplies, even if some NPCs did not feel hunger or held equipped items that stopped them from feeling hunger or exhaustion.

Nereus and Nagato were already waiting for her, Nereus with a pair of cutlasses by his belt and his hair in a loose ponytail to neaten his artful appearance. They saluted as she approached them.

“Good morning, Admiral,” Nereus saluted. “The Chief Medical Officer has received your orders, and has set up a quarantine hut on the beach to prepare for our date.”

“Who said it was a date?” Sycorax drawled, comparing Nereus to his creator Titania. The Fairy Archer player had been fine with either the normal route or the Yuri route, and Nereus was capable of flirting with men and women.

Though the latter aspect probably had to be toned down depending on the sexual liberty of the inhabitants, Sycorax suddenly remembered. “Nagato, the status of our water supply?”

“Aye.” Nagato was businesslike in her manner as she gave her verbal report. “Cutty Sark discovered that the waters about here do conform with ocean currents and tides in accordance with expected tidal forces. Testing of seawater samples also reveal the presence of aquatic life, along with the expected composition of sodium, chloride, sulphate, magnesium, and calcium ions, amongst others.”

Sycorax immediately focused. “And my proposal?”

“Cutty Sark is currently experimenting if Admiral's desalination proposal is possible.” Nagato smiled delicately. “If it succeeds, then we will have immediate and ready access to fresh water for the whole fleet, as well as being able to recover salt.”

“I see.” Sycorax hummed. “If I remember, Cutty Sark has the 「Elemental Decomposition」ability, right?”

“You are correct, Admiral.”

“See if he can separate the sodium and chlorine. We can use that as a weapon.”

“Aye, Admiral.” Nagato saluted. “Good luck with your reconnaissance, Admiral.”

Nereus shot her a look. “You aren't jealous?”

“I am an Automaton. I feel nothing.”

There was a small row-boat waiting for them as they climbed over the barque, also composed of glowing ice. Nereus used the frozen oars to row them towards a small tent set up on the coast.

Leaves rustled as the row-boat was run aground and then its occupants strode into the tent. “Sycorax-sama, Nereus-sama. It is an honour.”

“Chief Medical Officer Prospero.” Sycorax announced. “We are going to the island.”

The Treant shook. To the uneducated eye, it would look like an ordinary tree, albeit moving. Its eyes and mouth were embedded within the bark of the trunk, and it was barely a hundred and fifty centimetres. It was this size paired with off-the-charts HP, the skills to cast 「Portal」over a large area, and medical knowledge to complement a Healer proficiency, which made him the CMO of the Fomori.

“What's that supposed to mean?” drawled the Nagini in disguise.

“I have prepared the materials.” Like vines growing down, many spray bottles dropped down to surround her. “Please close your eyes.”

Sycorax stared at all of the bottles. “I was expecting a hose.”

“Casting water magic to purify poisons and holy magic immediately afterwards should suffice, but my skills are mainly as an Alchemist and Cleric, Sycorax-sama. The many bottles are a result of my three days of study with limited resources.”

“Very well.” Sycorax made the strip down, removing her jacket first before a branch whipped down to stop her. “Is there a problem?”

Behind her, Nereus glowered at the sapient tree, which ignored him.

“You will not need to remove your armour or items during the process, Sycorax-sama.”

“Oh. Continue then.”

“Aye-aye.”

All the bottles were decompressed at once, much like a cloud of cold steam erupting in her face. Sycorax blinked, her left hand flying to her eye-patch as it hissed.

“Sycorax-sama!” Nereus shouted as she swayed. “Fix this!”

“The 「Reject Evil」must have permeated.” Prospero observed. “It must be the「Eye of Stheno」planted in place of her original eye when it was sacrificed.”

“Why would such a dangerous object be near Sycorax-sama!” Nereus demanded.

“Stop, Nereus.” Sycorax stood back up, willing the throb to decrease. “Next time give a warning, Prospero.”

“Y- Yes! My deepest apologies, Sycorax-sama!” The trunk creaked. “I did not expect the diluted solution to have such an effect!”

Sycorax pondered it. “It is your first mistake. Be more careful next time.”

“Aye!”

“I will issue a formal reprimand when we return.”

“Aye...”

After Nereus was sprayed, the pair of them walked out towards the world.

* * *

Deep inland of the Re-Estize Kingdom, now hidden amidst hills and illusions and vegetation, was the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Once the unconquerable dungeon of YGGDRASIL, it was the guild base of the guild Ainz Ooal Gown. Currently, it was also the main base of its monsters, ruled by the leader and last of its forty-one members, an Elder Lich Overlord named Momonga.

On the tenth floor of the Great Tomb, there was the Overlord's office. Every piece of furniture in the room was elegant in design, tasteful and exotic. The crimson red soft carpet on the floor made no sound when walked on. Tapestries of various designs were draped over the walls deep within the room. An impressive black wooden desk took centre stage, and its owner sat upon the glossy black leather chair.

Wearing a long black robe that seemed to absorb light, if there was one sentence to describe that person, it would be 'Overlord of Death'. Or 'walking skeleton', save for the aura of despair that surrounded this person.

This was Momonga. Momonga, or Satoru Suzuki, was currently in the same state as Sycorax, but had hope deep in his heart.

“If Sycorax-san is here, then there's another player out there,” he resolved, his bones jittery in his deep plush leather chair. There were a few regrets he felt – not strong enough for his Undead nature to suppress them like the first day, but still present. “Then... wait, the Mirror of Remote Viewing! If I can find her...”

“Momonga-sama?” one of the Tomb's combat maids of the Pleiades, Narberal Gamma, perked up.

“Bring me the Mirror of Remote Viewing! We need to find Sycorax-san!”

“Yes, Momonga-sama.” Narberal Gamma sounded confused, but did as ordered.

While he did not find her, he did find Carne Village and through certain subsequent events involving a Warrior Captain and several militant priests coming after him, he found the current relative location of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Which was not all bad, truly.

* * *

“Sycorax-sama?” Nereus walked behind her, despite the two of them being close to the village.

Sycorax stopped walking. “Yes?”

“Would we not require a cover story?”

“I was thinking that our cover was already decided.”

“Really?”

“We're on a date.”

Sycorax turned back in time to watch the pretty horse-turned-man sputter. “It's a cover. During that time, I will be the White Witch. You will be my companion. We came from a foreign country, and now we're looking for places to go on the land. Ideally, we're looking for an atlas, but first we must find currency and the local bar.”

Nereus pondered, before he smiled. “It's lunch and a date, then.”

“First we need to see if the currency from YGGDRASIL can be used, conversion rate if any, and... see if they have delicious food.” The last factor was pronounced with the utmost seriousness.

Nereus beamed. “Yes, Sycorax-sama.”

The village was small and ramshackle, populated with houses of driftwood and people of nearly the same faces. Sycorax stood by and watched, pulling her skipper hat down to cover her eye from the rising sun. A few men carried nets and harpoons towards small boats – a fishing village, then. Little plates hanging above the doors indicated shops.

Sycorax grinned as she spotted one that sported a crude drumstick. “I told Momonga-san that I'll be testing currency today. Hopefully it'll be fine...”

“As you wish,” Nereus held the door open for her to stroll in. “Hopefully we won't meet some disgusting monkeys.”

Sycorax caught that, frowning as she walked in.

Almost all the windows were closed, hiding the interior in darkness. It was not a problem for Sycorax, who had night-vision, though seeing with one eye was a challenge to her depth perception. The interior was spacious; first-floor dining area with a dry bar serviced by two wooden-faced cabinets. The door next to the counter probably led into the kitchen. At the corner of the dining area, a stairway led upstairs to an open design revealing balconies for two floors.

“Breakfast?” offered the man behind the counter.

Sycorax smiled at him. “You're the boss of this place?”

Being smiled at by a pretty woman made the man puff up his chest. “Of course! The two of you must be travellers, right?”

“Yes,” Sycorax nodded. “We came from across the sea.”

“You don't say! The sea's filled with monsters!”

“He's strong.” Sycorax jabbed a thumb in the direction of Nereus, who nodded.

Since the logic of naval warfare dictated that a combat fleet should be smaller than the auxiliary fleet that served it, entire divisions were purely logistical in purpose. Nagato, Ariel, Merry and Cutty Sark were examples, being NPCs who specialised in detection, communications, fleet repair and fleet supply exclusively. They could hold their own in a fight, but it was meant only to be the last line of defence. As long as these three NPCs remained, the fleet's design ensured that it would recover all its losses in time, even revive the dead fighters.

Four divisions were responsible for combat: Nereus and Caliban led boarding parties in melee combat, Bonny commanded the fleet's magic casters, and Phaeton led the fleet's aerial forces. Caliban had the Knight classes, but Sycorax had chosen the Thief-class Nereus, because the First Division commander's swords looked intimidating and because under that foppish-looking exterior was a brain that could keep its counsel.

So Nereus nodded with a false smile, though it was so artful and boyish as to seem natural. “My fiancée wishes to travel the world, so I must swing my sword for her sake.”

“You're adventurers?”

Sycorax mentally noted that occupation. “We're travellers, looking to explore the world. We just arrived from across the ocean. Could I ask if you accept foreign currency in this place?”

“Sure, if it's not Empire currency.”

“Excuse me?”

“We don't accept coins from the Baharuth Empire.” the man clarified.

Sycorax produced a gold coin from her money-belt. “What about this?”

The man leant forward, his beard nearly brushing the counter before he started. From under the counter he pulled out a balancing scale and a set of weights, cylindrical in shape and shining brass. Sycorax studied it as the man weighed the coin on one side and weights on the other, the man frowning as he set another weight against her coin.

“Looks like it's about two gold coins...” the man mused. “No way to be sure... can I scratch it?”

“If it's gold, I want the full value back.”

The coin thudded onto the counter as the man stumbled back from her glare. “R- Right, yes. But I only have silver and copper coins... not enough to pay the change.”

“How much is silver and copper compared to gold?”

“Well, it's officially seventeen silver for a gold and twenty-nine copper for a silver, but, you know...” the man leaned forward. “The Kingdom is crazy, you get me?”

“Our kingdom was crazy as well,” Sycorax lied.

The pair of them exchanged grins common to those who challenged authority on a regular basis, fellow co-conspirators. Now, Sycorax leaned forward, licking her lips...

“I'm the White Witch. He's the dark knight. We need breakfast. And then, we need a map to confirm where are we, exactly. Do all of those, and this coin is yours.”

“Now, miss, I can't assist spies into the Kingdom!”

“We're travellers.” Sycorax stepped back, spinning around to make her skirt flare. “Do I look like a spy~? Give me back my coin~”

“N- Not at all!” The proprietor scrambled back. “But... what about your fiancé?”

“Oh, silly me~” Sycorax turned to look at Nereus over her right shoulder, throwing him a wink with a hard stare. “He wants to join in too, right~?”

Nereus remained strong, and silent... and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

Sycorax turned back in time to watch the blush in the proprietor's cheeks be suppressed by biting his bottom lip. “So, uncle... let's talk.”

It was not a skill, or an ability, or lack of either, that had kept Sycorax out of Ainz Ooal Gown. Nor was it a lack of effort, or truly wanting to join them, that had kept the Nagini out. Nor was it a lack of opportunities, not when Sycorax had applied to them ten times and been rejected for all ten times, upon which she had formed her own guild. Touch Me had realised it, and then Ulbert Alain Odle, Punitto Moe, and most of the nay-sayers. ON some distant level, Momonga had understood that Sycorax was kept out to maintain the guild's unity and principles, but even he failed to comprehend what Touch Me meant when the former guild leader had explained: “Sycorax is a monster suited to doing her own thing.”

Yes. Sycorax had the ability to become anybody's friend. If given free reign, she would have made their guild of patients into her puppets, no matter how unintentional her efforts, and most of the First Nine had understood that when they voted to keep her out.

All except Momonga, who always wanted a friend.

* * *

In naval life, at least before the advent of steam, shanties had practical functions. The rhythm of the song served to synchronise the movements of the sailors, or to pace the labour, as they toiled at their repetitive tasks. Singing helped to alleviate boredom and to lighten the psychological burden of hard work. Shanties may also be said to have served a social purpose, as to build camaraderie, but then camaraderie had not been the reason why Merry had the Bard class.

“ _I'm sick in the head, and I haven't been to bed, since first I came ashore with me plunder~_ ” sang Merry, his voice carried throughout the _Larch_. _“I've seen centipedes and snakes, and me head is full of aches, and I have to take a path for way out yonder~!_ ”

The ship's bell rang out. _Ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting_.

“Up spirits!” came the rallying cry. Skeletons and zombies, the only ones who did not consume anything and were used as labour for truly repetitive tasks, did not respond, but the galley corps cheered, breaking the power of the song.

“Oh!” Merry smiled as the call rebounded. “It's almost lunchtime.”

“Commander!” A blue-finned Fishman called. “I'm going to get the grog!”

“Alright. Be careful!” Merry called towards the Fishman petty officer of his Division.

The hulking Fishman saluted back, before running out and jumping straight into the sea to swim towards the _Totara_.

“Most of the crew are undead, but for our living members there's their daily grog ration. Well, being intoxicated counts as poison, but... there's a surprise waiting for poison users now.” The Klabautermann laughed to himself.

His Division had been targeted when the fleet had been attacked, and his men incapacitated by poison. It had taken a bit, but his creator, Checky, had mentioned something... about a Gliscor. Whatever that thing was, Merry did not know. It seemed to be secret knowledge amongst the Admiralty, if the shared sniggers had been any indication.

The next time poison tactics had been used, their enemies had screamed in alarm when they had healed from the poison, and the Admiralty had cheered. The Admiralty, of which there was only one great being left...

Hanging from the ice rigging with a sharp needle in hand to thread ropes together, Merry stared out at the shrouded sea with green eyes, the sun approaching midday overhead. He looked every bit like a young brunet sailor boy, who had the unhealthy habit of smoking from a pipe. “Nereus is with the Admiral. If there is trouble, he will protect the Admiral. The Admiral will return, and then we will have dinner at the first dog watch.”

“You're dull, Merry.”

Ariel giggled, watching Merry fall from shock and get tangled up in the rigging. The ropes fell onto the deck, landing with a thud. “What are you spacing out for? Little boy wants to go swimming~?”

“Ariel! I'm older than you!” Merry defended.

“Forget about that!” Ariel yelled back. “Why did you tell Cutty Sark to with draw my grog ration?”

“The flyers are limited to water for the moment until they stop ramming the sails!” Merry yelled back. “I didn't even say anything!”

“No way, idiot!” Ariel stuck his tongue out at the Klabautermann, then something made him freeze and dive straight down.

Merry watched as a russet shadow rushed down after the Storm Sylph, indicating that Ariel had pissed off the Aerial Commander again. Slowly, he climbed out of the rigging and swung to the mast, picking up another rope. “I bet Phaeton sabotaged the grog ration. I wish I had bumbo to drink... no, Cutty Sark said that we have to monitor the health of the fleet first, so it's grog and unpolished rice. But we get some meat, and fish... alright. Men! It's Handy Me Boys!”

“AYE!”

“ _Why can't ye be so handy-o!”_ Merry began.

“Handy, me boys, so handy!” they chorused, hauling ropes, hammering boards, sewing sails, cleaning guns and so on.

“ _Oh, aloft this yard must go!”_

“Handy, me boys, so handy!”

“ _Ooh! Up aloft from down below!”_

“Handy, me boys, so handy!”

“ _Growl ye may, but go ye must!”_

“Handy, me boys, so handy!”

“ _Hey, growl too much an' yer head, they'll bust!”_

“Handy, me boys, so handy!”

“ _Oh, a bully ship an' a bully crew!”_

“Handy, me boys, so handy!”

“ _Oh, we're the gang for the kick 'er through!”_

“Handy, me boys, so handy!”

Listening to the faint shanty, Nagato nodded from her desk in the bridge of the _Queen of the Night_. “Merry looks like he's taking it well. So, Cutty Sark. What happened to Up Spirits?”

“We're busy.” the Elder Black Ooze replied. “We're the only Cooks in the fleet. I can't cook and do those experiments at the same time.”

“Then you may arrange for your subordinates to handle the meals. This takes priority.” Nagato considered him. “You have finished it.”

The Elder Black Ooze scoffed. “It can be done with 「Reverse Osmosis」. We can recoup our water supply with water magic. If we throw in a few Slimes, by the time we're done the water would be cleaner than anywhere else you would ever find.”

“I shall take your word for that. What about the salt retrieved?”

“Needs purifying, but yeah, we can use that.” Cutty Sark replied. “Salt is rather useful. You do give good ideas, Nagato.”

“It was the Admiral's idea.”

“Ah, then Sycorax-sama has my admiration.” Cutty Sark nodded. “Now, I need to meet up with Drake. Once shore leave is declared, that money-maniac would be trading our food supply off if we're not careful.”

“I am sure you will keep the _Totara_ in control as the fleet's purser.”

“I hope the Admiral will return safely.” Cutty Sark mused. “What do you think of my dinner menu? My creator Thousand Splendid Suns mentioned that Sycorax-sama loves food.”

“Make sure that it's healthy. Onion and carrot soup, and the Penne Gorgonzola... how is the Gorgonzola? Is it infested?”

“It's fine. We keep the pantries clear with anti-vermin magic, so it's developing well.”

“Serve it up hot to complement the fruit platter. Other than that, everything looks fine.” Nagato stared at him. “It's not like you to consult anyone about your menu, Cutty Sark. You're the chef amongst us.”

“Well, you know Sycorax-sama the longest out of all of us, being her quartermaster and XO. Sycorax-sama loves food so much, if she ever felt unsatisfied...”

“Cutty Sark! Our Admiral is not a beast!”

“Y- Yes!” The Ooze shivered. Despite being immune to physical attacks, he knew that Nagato had options around her. “But... our creators, the Admiralty, came for one last party, and then left Sycorax-sama alone in the fleet. Sycorax-sama must long to meet them again.”

Nagato sat back down at the desk, glaring at the pens and writing boards. “...Merry will be dining as well. Have him arrange for a performance during the first dog watch. Even if it's only half the fleet, the Admiral will be dining before the ratings of the combined fleet.”

“Aye.”

* * *

“So, this is a village on the edge of the Kingdom of Re-Estize.” Sycorax recounted in the tavern, her finger pressing the proprietor's map into the counter. “And the closest city is Re-Uloguall?”

“Yes, missy,” the proprietor, whose name was Corn, became tense as he looked behind her. A plate of steaming mashed potatoes and goat cheese lay next to her arm, having been abandoned for the moment when she consulted the map. Nereus had taken a few bites using the sole spoon provided before turning around.

The immediate violence that happened was ignored by the white-haired pirate. “No open waters. Not even a great lake.”

“The Great Lake of Tob is a good sight,” Corn offered, wincing as one thief was smashed into a table and bodily flung out. There was a yell again.

“No, that won't do.” Absently, Sycorax took the wooden spoon and scooped up some potato-and-cheese. She lifted it to her lips-

-A dagger embedded itself into the counter. The spoon clattered down, the force of the thrown knife having knocked it out of her hand. The potato mash landed onto the counter with a gooey _splat_.

Nereus coughed, backing slightly once he realised what had happened.

Sycorax slowly turned around, seeing a rough-skinned, rough-haired man who was still in a throwing position. “My potato... my potato that cost five silver and seven copper coins...”

“It's just a potato.” The man straightened his back. “Corn, I heard that a pair of travellers came to the village. Of course, I'll be exacting my toll.”

“They just came.” Corn started. “They don't have money.”

Hard eyes traced her body, glimmering. “Since they don't have money, I'm sure we can arrange something else as payment.”

“Miss,” Nereus started. “I will settle this-”

The skipper's hat was snatched up, and Sycorax had dashed across and planted her knee in the offender's face immediately. Following up with a flip heel kick, the second man was thrown out of the door via sheer force before Sycorax dashed behind him. Corn and Nereus rushed out immediately, in time to watch the man get tossed into a wall by a girl of much smaller physical statute than him.

Sycorax walked towards them. “Food.”

“I found another spoon, Admiral.” Nereus presented another spoon, this one of silver, to her, with the bowl in his hand.

“The potato dropped. Such a waste.”

“But, aside from that spoonful, the rest is edible.”

“Such a waste,” echoed Sycorax. She accepted the bowl and spoon, before reluctantly digging in.

As she ate, Nereus regarded the white-faced Corn with a benevolent smile. “If you wish, we can make him disappear.”

“I- It's fine.” Corn huffed. “You guys are Adventurers, then?”

“I'm sorry?” Nereus asked.

“You know.” Corn waved his hands. “The monster-hunters. Maize – the bandit outside – was formerly a silver-class Adventurer. They're above most normal humans.”

“I see.” Nereus mused.

Truthfully, he would have taken them down faster, but the man Maize seemed to have thought about interrupting the Admiral's meal. In the end, the Admiral had mercifully smashed him for wasting food, and left it at that.

“But, if he's alive, he'll be calling his troops here.” Corn's face turned serious. “I heard that he has backers amongst the nobles who are trying to monopolise the sea trade from the nearest fort.”

“So, this toll is a myth.” Sycorax noted. “I wouldn't have paid it anyway.”

Corn looked at them with new eyes. “You guys... you aren't regular sailors, are you?”

“I'm a pirate.” Sycorax decisively replied. “We are travelling the world.”

“Erm... I'm not sure what to do with that.”

“You don't need to do anything. We seem to have overstayed our welcome.”

“Not at all!” Corn protested. “You are strong, and dignified, and you can talk to people. I am sure, if you became adventurers, it would be a better use of your strength.”

“I don't want to.” Sycorax stared at him. “A pirate's flag represents that they belong to no state, that they follow no master. It is that ambition that forms the dignity of pirates. If I was to fight under a nation, they would have to issue a letter of marque first.”

“I... see...” Corn subsided. “They're going to trash the place.”

It was spoken with both resignation and conviction.

“And if they ask for us?” Sycorax asked him. “What will you do?”

Corn's lips twitched. “Pirates used to bring in the best trade from the Baharuth Empire. Even though the guys in the fort and Re-Uloguall are clamping down on them, calling them godless men who do what they want on the high seas... they protected us fishermen. They hauled money here to spend as desperate men, and some weren't even men. Of course, they were bad people, but unrest covers the Kingdom. How else can anyone survive besides being bad? They're people in my eyes, sentient beings who come here to leave their identities outside. This is a bar.”

Corn sighed. “I'm an idiot, aren't I?”

“A fool. A romantic fool.” confirmed the woman. “This form is false, by the way.”

“Missy. People don't walk around everyday with such a nice hat.” Corn smirked, pointing towards the skipper's hat on her head. “But you were mostly honest with me, so I thank you for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to lock up.”

The spoon clattered in the bowl. “I'm done. My knight.”

Nereus was at attention. “Should I contact the rest?”

“The two of us will be enough. If they wish to do battle with us, they should bring a warship.” Sycorax yawned. “Corn. I consider you a nice person. Good day.”

“Good luck.” Corn grimaced as the pair of them walked out.

He took a set of keys and began locking the cabinets up, checking the till and disappearing the gold coin he had paid a truly stunning amount of change in exchange for. Locking the cash away, his next move was to lock the loose doors.

The doors swung open, and then Corn blinked. Wiped his eyes. Blinked again.

There were fully armed soldiers at his doorstep, for one thing. He recognised those soldiers; men with armour who abused their position and smashed too much of his crockery to replace most of the time. And the knights, who were supposed to be of noble stock but were simply titled ruffians bleeding money for their coffers from the Kingdom.

Weapons were strewn about as proof that the knights had fallen. The soldiers were down, unconscious or bearing footprints where they had clearly been attacked with a kick. There were twenty men; fifteen soldiers and five knights, Corn recalled as the fort's main forces, a full fifth of the fort's total occupants.

In the middle of them, Sycorax dusted her hat and put it back on her head. “Get them back to the fleet. We need more information, and I believe our specialised divisions can get it.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Corn blinked as mist rolled in from the seas, masking the pair from view. He ran forward, reaching out, but the bodies, and the pair of them, were no longer there.


	4. III: Afore

「 You saved a village? Good work! 」

「Thank you, Sycorax-san.」

Sycorax and Nereus had returned to the fleet after visiting Prospero in his tent for another spray of themselves and their baggage, dragging the soldiers behind them. She would have felt bad for them, but since they had been carrying torches and bales of firewood soaked in oil, she felt only anger. Revenge. Hunger too, since it was close to dinnertime and she had activated 「Prehensile Hair」to drag ten soldiers behind her, so the sight of them being dragged by her Nagini hair had also placed stress on her roots. It was worrying since her hair was already white, and she didn't need to be bald.

“Admiral.” Nereus spoke up. “These soldiers and knights.”

“Have them keelhauled to the _Larch_ when it makes its rounds.” Sycorax then held up a hand in frustration. “Belay that order. The knights, put them in the brig, have Intelligence Officer Sakuya interrogate them. The soldiers, keelhaul them on the _Mahogany_.”

“The _Mahogany_ is due for combat practice against the _Pine_ and _Spruce_ , Sycorax-sama. There is a chance of ramming. The presence of these soldiers might upset the ship's balance.”

“That's the point, Nereus.” Sycorax nodded. “Corn's village will become our foothold on the mainland. Smashing these soldiers and losing them in the seas will add to our reputation. The knights will provide information about this world.”

“I understand. I will see to it.”

Sycorax dismissed the others, deactivating her illusion before activating 「Message」to Momonga for their pre-dinner conversation. It resulted in the exchange that had opened this chapter.

「But I used the name of Ainz Ooal Gown,」Momonga added, with a touch of guilt. 「Is that... alright?」

「If we're discussing the possibility that there are players aside from ourselves, then invoking the guild's name would be more practical than invoking your own name, Momonga-san.」Sycorax smiled. 「Besides, you're fulfilling Touch Me-san's mission to save the weak.」

「That's not it, Sycorax-san. I took on the guild name. To my subordinates, I am Ainz Ooal Gown.」A long silence echoed.「I think being in these bodies have changed us. When I saw bloodshed, I... didn't feel faint. Or sick. Or hungry, or tired.」

「That's strange, I ate and drank well at lunch. Maybe it's because you're an Elder Lich right now.」Sycorax leant against the deck railings, watching the mists around the fleet and mentally calculating the expansion of space needed for the planned three-ship combat practice. 「Oh, right, I found my location. I'm at the northern coast of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, near a small fishing village that's close to Re-Uloguall.」

「Oh, me too. I'm close to Carne Village, which is close to E-Rantel.」

「...Momonga-san, that's inland. On the opposite end of the Kingdom.」

「「SHIT!」」both of them swore at once.

「I cannot leave the fleet, Momonga-san! We still need to build a base!」

「Neither can I leave Nazarick alone, Sycorax-san! We need supplies!」

「「Our choice of bases left us on the opposite end of the kingdom...」」They concluded together.

“Unknown ship entering port!” the rallying cry went up. “Unknown insignia! Cannons pointed at our direction!”

「Momonga-san, I've got a ship attacking here. Can we continue this later?」

「SHIP?! Oh, sure. Be careful!」

Cancelling the message, Sycorax drew out a piece of rope bearing three knots. “Those bastards... what's the status of dinner, men!?”

“Yes!” a sailor covered in scales saluted. “Cutty Sark-sama said that it would be onion and carrot soup, Penne Gorgonzola with bacon, and a fruit platter.”

“Delicious. Then let's not be late for dinner.” Sycorax licked her lips. “「Ligature」.”

There were many classes available in YGGDRASIL, and seven or more were needed to reach level hundred. Since there was so much variety available, Sycorax had played the Sea Witch class, which had earned her derision for being nowhere near the seas. That, and the race she chose, had nearly caused her to be PK'ed until she had been saved by the nine who would found Ainz Ooal Gown. Well, at the time they were still being carried by Touch Me, but she had found friends.

Only, the friends didn't seem to want her around. Only Momonga had vouched for her, and even he didn't seem to have much power, though she did not blame him or them.

Sycorax swore to be their opposite in order, and had created her own naval-oriented build before founding Hostis Humani Generis. On top of her racial class, she had completed her Sea Witch class, mastered the Pirate class, and a few more before she had discovered what could the rarest, most situational class in YGGDRASIL. Completing that five-level class had cost her an eye in the world of YGGDRASIL, but in exchange...

Still, this lone ship did not merit the power she had attained. Her Sea Witch skills was enough. Such as「Ligature」, the spell which Sea Witches used to bind the winds to their purposes.

“Admiral.” Nagato saluted as Sycorax approached the quarterdeck, where the ship's wheel stood. “Are we going to board the ship?”

“These guys interrupted dinner time. So, no. I will sink them. Have Nereus and his daughters on standby to retrieve the fallen loot and men adrift at sea.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

“Heave-ho,” Sycorax smirked as she undid all three knots.

The winds erupted about them like a funnel. Clouds rolled across the mid-afternoon sun. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked overhead as the clouds congregated above its potential victim, much like the Barghests of the seas had singled out one ship and marked it for death at the behest of the sea.

The ship's bell rang the start of the first dog watch, solemn as a funeral dirge. _Ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting_.

Sycorax watched the hurricane erupt right on the ship, against a backdrop of lightning-lit clouds that spanned the horizon. The winds were so strong, lifting the waters like a corkscrew and sweeping a gale across the main deck of the _Queen of the Night_. Masts and sails crashed down into rising waves.

Ariel landed, grabbing the rigging of the mizzen mast to slow his descent. “Admiral, the ship is sunk. The captain was just seized, and is on his way.”

“Captain?” Sycorax echoed. “Bring him here.”

Ariel departed, flying into the mists around the fleet.

Soon, a black lump was tossed aboard over the port side of the deck railings. The lump was followed by Nereus hauling himself up, his clothes sopping wet and sticking to him, outlining his physique.

“The captain stayed on with his ship, or he tried. Her name was the _Nazami Enec_.”

“Oh?” Sycorax commented as the lump stirred. “And the crew?”

“They abandoned ship, but my Division and daughters seized them.”

“Good work, Nereus.” Sycorax idly stood, waiting as the human in a tunic and a Roman helmet started to struggle out of the black cocoon, which she realised was part of a sail. “Do you have a name? A rank?”

The man stared at her.

“Ah, you must be thirsty. Bring some warm water.”

A Fishman rating brought him a cup, which the soaked and bedraggled Roman legionnaire studied before drinking. “T- Thank you for saving me.”

“Name and rank?”

“F- Femel arc Vers Envers, Captain of the man-of-war _Nazami Enec_. I serve in Knight Order of the  Classis of the Baharuth Empire.”

“Baharuth Empire?” Sycorax asked. “What's that?”

“The Empire lies on the other side of the Azerlisia Mountains, bordering the Kingdom of Re-Estize.” explained Femel. “Having attacked our ships, His Majesty won't stand by!”

“How boring.” Sycorax considered it. “But, an Empire means coastal settlements.”

A hand climbed onto the railings, and a mermaid with a tail like a bluefin tuna clambered aboard with a salute. “Admiral. The Nereids returned with the loot. It looks like the ship was being used to transport demi-humans and heteromorphic races.”

“They're the property of the Empire!” Femel spoke up, red rushing into his face. “If you do anything to them, His Majesty Jircniv Rune Farlord el Nix will not let you filthy pirates go!”

“You don't have the authority to determine anything.” Nereus snapped. “Haven't you realised it yet?”

“What the hell are you people?” Femel's eyes bulged wide as he looked around. “M- Monsters!”

“We are pirates, and I am the captain, Sycorax.” Sycorax replied.

Femel's reply was to draw a sword and dash towards her. Sycorax froze, watching the sharp blade approach her slowly, the man's speed possibly meaning that he was going to kill her.

_Oh._

Sycorax still remained frozen when Femel was tackled and held down by two Golem ratings, shouting at her.

“Bitch! Monster!”

“Admiral?” Nereus was by her side in an instant. “Admiral, are you alright? It was my mistake, bringing him unchained. I will ensure that they are chained in the future.”

“I...” _I thought he would kill me. I thought I took down Maize... I'm at level 100, with all of my abilities and a fleet loyal to me. I was happy just to have this day._

_If I died here... is it permanent?_

“Associating with us, you must be filthy as well.” Sycorax found herself talking. “Nereus, keelhaul him to the _Heart of Oak_.”

“You know the consequences of destroying our warship, right?!” Femel bellowed. “Monster! Do you know what it means to attack us? You have declared war on the Baharuth Empire. His Majesty will execute you!”

“If he drowns within three hours, that is his luck.” Sycorax ordered. “If not, bring him to Sakuya for enhanced interrogation.”

“Are you listening to me?!” Femel broke out. “I am a knight! Release me, and I will not report this insolence to the Emperor!”

“If this Baharuth Empire has coastal settlements, it seems fair to eke out our reparations for ruining dinner from their holdings.”

Nereus saluted. “Aye-aye.”

“Don't ignore me!” Femel yelled. “「Body Strengthening」「Full Throttle」!”

While strong, the Fishman ratings had not expected a human to use magic. Femel easily broke from their hold, charging towards Sycorax again with his sword drawn. Evidently, the warrior was intending on decapitating the fleet with him as he slashed his way through.

“Sycorax-sama!” Nereus yelled.

A knuckled fist swung, punching Femel deep into the iced planks of the _Queen of the Night_. The ice cracked with his face, stained with blood. Teeth flew out, embedded into the crushed crystal of the ship.

Sycorax uncoiled the fist she had used to punch down the man. Her fingers were covered in blood, the brass knuckles equally stained, and she shrugged. “I don’t care. I don’t care if you are a great or just a simple person. I am a pirate.” Sycorax hissed. “You injured my men. One more hour for every injury incurred.”

“Hand... Admiral, your hand.” Nereus turned to a rating. “Get the first-aid kit!”

“「Heal」.” Sycorax watched her knuckles heal. “It's alright. If the slaves are alive, put them with the _Rowan_. Nereus, get this out of my sight.”

Femel struggled, spitting out a tooth as he groaned, lying down. Contemptuously, Nereus took the man by one leg and dragged him over the deck with a _splash_. The First Division commander followed soon after, diving into the ocean. A horse's whinny followed, though Sycorax did not look down to see Femel being kicked and pushed by the transformed Kelpie.

“「Water」.” Sycorax cast the spell, a fountain welling in her hand to wash aside most of the blood before tracing the jewelled collar around her neck. “「Fractal Rearrange」.”

Under her gaze, the dented and cracked ice plank mended itself, becoming solid ice with the grains of wood etched into its surface that it had been. Aside from a tooth, there was no sign that her punch had down Femel and the plank.

Sycorax washed her brass knuckle, the blood faintly being diluted by the deck and frozen into the floor. “Is dinner prepared?”

* * *

「Momonga-san, today I found out what it's like to be afraid to die.」

「...eh?」

Dinner being concluded, Sycorax was currently in the ship's library, reading through a few books. Despite it being difficult and counter-productive, Sycorax had stored a few e-books into the guild library, amongst the image data of the cosy ship's library. The library was amalgamated with the war room and the navigation room next to the bridge, hence the shelves of e-books turned real books.

Now, an atlas that Corn forgot joined the ranks of the books as Sycorax chatted with Momonga, curled up in a low chair in the library. Beside her stood a Cobb-neck bottle, a sight that stood out in the setting of YGGDRASIL, and now stood out in the real world.

「Nothing, it's just that I might have attacked a warship.」

「Oh, that's what happened... eh?! EEEEHHH?!」

「Exactly.」

「No way, how did that happen?! We're strangers in this world!」

「But I'm a pirate. I don't know the rules of this world to begin with.」

「I'm at the other side of the Kingdom! I can't save you!」

「I'll be fine. But, I can't leave the fleet to search for you. Didn't you say that you met someone, Momonga-san?」

「I met Gazef Stronoff as Ainz Ooal Gown! I can't just tell someone to help me find a comrade!」

「But he owes you, right?」

「There are procedures as well!」

「What procedures? I don't know them.」

「Ah... Sycorax-san. My aim is to see if there are players of YGGDRASIL in this world. In order to do that, we must gain fame. So, I plan to submit myself and an NPC from Nazarick as adventurers under false names. Once I've built up that reputation, I plan to reveal myself and gain lots of fame.」

「Wouldn't it be easier for you to find the others if you just used your real name, Momonga-san? Assuming that we aren't the only two players around with guild bases and NPC helpers.」

「The mistrust to heteromorphic races is deep amongst the humans here.」

「About that, Momonga-san. If a skeleton hands you a drink and tells you to drink it without a context, the most common thought after seeing that skeleton kill someone is that they're after you too.」

「How could I know that? I thought it was like YGGDRASIL!」

「You have 「Create Undead」, you can send scouts. I have familiars I can send out, and I used them!」Sycorax rolled her eyes.

「Ainz Ooal Gown PK'ed players before. I- I don't want to be targeted. And the NPCs... they look up to me as their master. Everyday it's like... if I had a stomach, I think it'd be destroyed by gastric pain.」

Sycorax held back her sigh, trying to recall her own horrible days as a beginner in YGGDRASIL. Ten years of playing YGGDRASIL and holding down a job at the local library haunted her with the daily grind of her life, inter-spaced with reading the old _tankobon_ volumes of Japan's most best-selling manga. Yet, she was somehow taking it a lot better than Momonga.  「It's our secret. Friends are there to tell your secrets to.」

「I... I changed Albedo's settings. It was the last day, I thought it would be over soon, and I found the settings by Tabula Smaragdina. She was so beautiful, and then I read her settings that she was a nymphomaniac. So... I overwrote it as being in love with Momonga.」

「What's wrong with that?」

「What's wrong? I dirtied Tabula Smaragdina-san's character! And Albedo loves me... actually, all the NPCs have such high standards for me, I can't say anything. It's like I was working at the entry level and then I was suddenly promoted to CEO, you know?!」

Sycorax curled a long of her bangs around her left pointer finger.「If I remember, it was something like that which made you the Guild-master. Ainz Ooal Gown... broke apart.」

「I worked hard!」

「You did, Momonga-san. You really worked hard,」Sycorax messaged. 「I know that, Momonga-san. You loved the guild so much, that you refused to join me in travelling the seas of YGGDRASIL. I was saved by you, too.」

 _Y_ _ou don't have the charisma of Touch Me_ , she didn't say. _You're not a strong leader_ , she wanted to say. She did not say it, because she did not believe that a leader needed charisma or strength, though those were helpful. However, there were things that a leader needed that she believed were absolute.

「I'm worried, Momonga-san. I understand hiding your face, but is there further reason to discard your old name in this new, strange world? Or, do you not feel safe amongst the NPCs created by your comrades to protect the Great Tomb of Nazarick, and by extension you?」

「I trust them! But Sycorax-san... I'm scared.」

「Do you feel unsafe?」

「...Yes. Until three days ago I didn't even know them. I'm afraid of them rebelling. They hate humans, and I don't want to know what would happen if they found out- and somehow, I can't feel too much.」

 _You're so focused on being a hero and making yourself look good, that you've lost yourself and become a villain in the process_.

「Let's try something together.」

「Eh?」

「You want to be Satoru Suzuki again, Momonga-san?」

「...not really.」

「That's fine. I think this world has untapped possibilities too. My guild-mates have scattered, and we may never meet again. My job is nothing to talk about either. I enjoyed today, though I thought my life was in danger. I shouldn't enjoy danger. It's not socially acceptable. But violence is a part of life here, I tell myself, and so I should adapt. I don't want to be Michiru Kaiō so much.」

「But Sycorax-san!」

「My fleet is composed of pirates as well. Amongst pirates, the risk of mutiny is strong. The only reason it is still maintained, is because I try to be a fair admiral. So, I am honest when I say that I do not believe you did anything bad. A person would wished to be loved, and I am sure that Albedo is a beautiful person to be loved by. Even if you are currently a pile of bones, I believe that you are worthy to be loved.」

「I- I... it's not creepy?」

「Momonga-san. I find creepy to be a boring label. I find you interesting, so how can you be boring?」

「Really?」

「Really. And to prove it, you... must. Tell. me. Right. Now.」

「 _I wish you were here with me, Sycorax-san!_ 」

A long silence permeated the air, before Momonga's sheepish voice added, 「Sorry...」

「I have business to embark upon inland, anyway. I'll be setting out soon.」

「E- Eh? But, it must be troublesome-」

「You are my friend, Momonga-san. It might be trite in our world, but in this world friends can mean the difference of life and death. It's like trust in business, except this is a choice you made in your life, and I must make sure not to disappoint that choice. I am a pirate, and this is my conviction at stake. We will meet again.」

「But... but you don't know the land.」

「I'm a pirate. It'll be an adventure!」Sycorax took a swig of the Cobb-neck bottle with a satisfied sigh. 「Nagato's Ramune is good. I'll bring you a few bottles when I come over!」

「I can't drink, Sycorax-san!」

* * *

“Our fleet is currently stationed at this unnamed island undergoing maintenance,” Sycorax began her explanation to the assembled commanders with Huginn and Muninn perched on either shoulder. “Ariel, Merry and Cutty Sark are busy with the various logistics of the auxiliary fleet. Phaeton and Bonny are maintaining the mist barrier. Our physical security is also overseen by Caliban. Nagato is coordinating the effort, and Nereus is monitoring below-surface.”

The NPCs carried looks of confusion. “We know that, Admiral...”

“As head of the Intelligence division, I cannot fall behind as your Admiral.” Sycorax steepled her fingers. “In short, I will be going to Re-Uloguall to carry out intelligence. Speak now.”

Confusion morphed into outrage, and chairs were shoved back.

“Admiral, it is inadvisable!” Nagato was the first to protest. “We don't have much information, and we haven't even finished mapping the surrounding areas! How can the fleet's Admiral go by herself on this perilous mission?!”  
“I hate to say it, but Nagato has a point. A fleet without an admiral is headless!” Nereus was the next to argue once Nagato had sat back down. “For what reason must our Admiral step out alone?!”

“Of course, I won't go alone.” Sycorax clarified once Nereus had finished. “In the beginning, I was just planning to go there and poke around, but our neighbouring village mentioned something about Adventurers. Specifically, that there is an Adventurer's guild in Re-Uloguall. From what I have gathered, Adventurers are people like myself, who slay monsters for money. If that is possible, then it would not be strange as hopeful applicants bring their own weapons. It is still a good reason to stay away from the law of the land, even if I wasn't a pirate.

“Secondly, a city would give us more intelligence about how things are done. If it was a simple matter of walking up to people and asking them, then I would have brought Nereus. I choose Caliban. If necessary, we would reveal our true forms, but we absolutely need more intelligence. Questions?”

Nobody spoke, until Merry raised his hand and the commanders started. The shipwright and Seventh Division commander was so young-looking, that it almost beggared belief to have him at the table to speak.

“I think, if Admiral brought the salt that Cutty Sark produced as a pretext to the city, it would be more passable.”

Sycorax thought for a moment. “Oh, right. Salt is worth its weight in gold here.”

“But it requires time to prepare the salt.”

“That's fine. I'll leave in... two days. Huginn, Muninn, fly to Re-Uloguall and report back to me.” The two crows flew out of the porthole as she commanded. “Meeting dismissed. All commanders, back to position – except Caliban. We need to work out a cover story.”


	5. IV: Aloft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: According to the latest map of the New World, Re-Uloguall is actually translated as Re-Ulovale – though both names are equally suspect anyway. I will be using this name starting from this chapter. – LLS

In the deepest part of the royal capital Re-Estize, over twenty huge circular towers had been constructed, equidistant from each other, connected by walls to form the castle town Laurentin.

Valencia Palace was located within these grounds. Having changed from its previous purpose of withstanding sieges in the heat of battle, the palace now served as the Kingdom's centre of administration. There was a great room, one which held a more functional importance than simply gorgeous decoration. Nobles and ministers of state were gathered here, as was custom for a palace meeting.

Amongst them was the figure of a muscular man, around thirty years old. His southern heritage was apparent in the permanent tan of his skin and the darkness of his hair. Noticeable wrinkles made themselves apparent under short black hair trimmed to military neatness, framing black eyes sharp as an obsidian knife.

This was the Kingdom’s strongest warrior and Warrior Captain, Gazef Stronoff. He knelt before King Lanposa the Third, who sat on his throne, to swear his allegiance.

Although only half a month had passed, Gazef’s impression comparing the King’s current appearance with the one from before his departure was not good for the King's age. His own beloved monarch had a head scattered with pale white hair, an emancipated body that was beyond the pink of health, and poor complexion. The twiggy arm clung to the sceptre with feeble wiry strength, and the crown seemed to weigh down His Majesty's head.

The elderly king should have already abdicated; the problem lay in there being no suitable heir. The two princes were inappropriate, and the princess barred by the existence of her brothers. To abdicate would leave the Kingdom to greedy nobles.

“Warrior Captain. It is truly splendid you were able to return safely.”

“Yes! Thank you very much, your Majesty!” Hearing these words of concern, Gazef bowed deeply as he replied.

“Ah, of course we have already received the report.” The voice quavered a touch. “However, we would still request the Warrior Captain to personally give a detailed explanation of the incident, and what exactly happened.”

“As your Majesty commands.”

Gazef had just returned from a frontier village named Carne. There he had met a mysterious magic caster, of the name of Ainz Ooal Gown. He left out the suspected espionage by the Slane Theocracy, since it was inappropriate to reveal that here, in a leaky ship of Valencia Palace where rumour passed faster than a thought. Thus most of his tale described the heroic efforts of Ainz Ooal Gown in saving the villagers from mortal peril.

“This really is a beautiful story.” Commented the King in praise. “Selflessly placing himself in danger to rescue the weak...”

Several nobles uttered contemptuous remarks about Ainz Ooal Gown.

A problematic and suspicious individual. An eccentric person who did not dare reveal his true face to the public. A magic caster with an odd name. Eventually, there arose an opinion that Ainz Ooal Gown had orchestrated this attack in order to promote himself, at which Gazef had to restrain himself heroically from showing anger or caving the man's face with his fist. Shame at being unable to utter a single word in defence of his benefactor who was criticised like this ate at him, and he wished that his position was no so mired in politics, that he could speak up. In the silence of his mind, his eyes drifted towards the one man amongst the ranks of the Kingdom's nobility.

The blond wraith with the viper's eyes did not notice him. Then again, Elias Brandt Dale Raeven, Marquis, did not need to notice Gazef, even if the commoner-born Gazef suspected one of the Kingdom's Six Great Nobles of high treason.

The Marquis caught his stare, and smirked much like a snake. Gazef's expression turned rigid as he stared back.

“With that, the Warrior Captain’s report ends here.” declared the King. “There are other important matters which need to be decided upon.”

The nobles subsided, knowing an order when they saw it.

Gazef walked to the King’s side and surveyed the nobles. As a personally trusted subject of the King, he was long accustomed to unpleasant stares of the hoi-polloi. He made sure to glare back at them.

“Well then, in accordance with the yearly custom, we shall war with the Empire in a few months' time. However...”

Foreboding chilled Gazef to the bone, and the nobility and ministers quietly awaited the announcement.

“The Baharuth Empire has sent a letter three days ago concerning the destruction of their warship, the _Nazami Enec_. She sank three days before the letter, just off the northern coast of the Kingdom with all hands lost. Eyewitnesses report that she was torn apart in a freak storm.”

Gazef's brow furrowed. The usual custom of battle was to fight at the Katze Plains. Until this date, neither side had suffered too much, but that was because the Empire never committed its full forces. If there was any real intent to topple the Kingdom, there would be no need at all to set camp at Katze Plains and wait for the enemy to arrive, not when Fluder Paradyne was on the Empire's side. The North Sea was protected due to the Agrand Council Alliance Merman Navy's presence. The fact that the Empire was making seaworthy warships in the area was about as disturbing as the fact that the warship had sunk.

Then something else occurred to him. “Nazami Enec?”

“Yes, Warrior-Captain,” Marquis Raeven explained. “The ship's name, its namesake being one of the current Four Imperial Knights of the Baharuth Empire.”

“The same knight with the epithet of 'Unassailable'?”

Titters broke out at that, and even the Marquis cracked a small smile which must have been a passing ghost. The King gave a small snort of laughter at the irony.

“Is it not folly to consider too much into such events, Your Majesty?” Marquis Raeven spoke once the sniggers had faded into silence once more. “If I may say, the Agrand Council Alliance has the strongest sea presence of the region.”

“Warships could easily bypass the Azerlisia Mountains and the Plains!” Gazef argued. “If we are not careful, the Empire would attack us from two fronts; one from the Plains, and one from the sea. It is more worrying that the Empire has developed a navy despite the Alliance!”

“Precisely.” the King agreed. “We cannot afford to fight on two fronts. I am, however, more troubled by the fact that the boy emperor has chosen to reveal this fact.”

“This fact?” Raeven echoed. “You mean, the fact that the warships exist, Your Majesty?”

Once again the room became noisy, with whispers being exchanged.

“Bah, warships! They can barely hold up to a stiff breeze if the ship was sunk so easily! Let us directly attack them!”

“Absolutely correct. I’ve pretty much become tired of only merely repelling the Empire.”

“That’s true.”

“It is just as you say, Earl.”

The room resounded with the merry laughter of noblemen who knew nothing.

“What says you, Your Majesty?”

“I am thinking if this magic caster and this ship sinking have any connection.”

“Your Majesty,” Gazef began, “I can assure you that Gown-sama did not sink that ship. The freak storm did. For Gown-sama to sink the ship six days ago, he must have travelled the length of the kingdom and returned in the blink of an eye, after invoking a sixth-tier magic which lies in the realm of legends.”

In the complete silence that ensued, Lanposa the Third closed his eyes in deep thought.

“I heard that the Empire has a Magic Caster Academy.” a noble turned an ingratiating look towards the King. “If so, perhaps Ainz Ooal Gown is not alone.”

“Men of that sort who appear in the Kingdom are always those who make others uncomfortable.” Another pig spoke up. “Does everyone not agree, that we should come up with a way to handle him?”

“Perhaps we could also consider capturing him. The adventurer's guild does whatever they please by employing a large number of magic casters. It’s a problem that another such being exists. It will be better for us to find a way to place him under our authority.”

“One moment please.” Gazef spoke up. “First of all, that magic caster is extremely friendly to the Kingdom. The way of thinking, of wanting to arrest such a benevolent person is really unwise-”

Several nobles showed obvious looks of disgust. With only his talent, Gazef had climbed into his current position. In the eyes of the nobles with long family histories, he was nothing more than an overnight wealthy upstart. Furthermore, his unparalleled swordsmanship deepened hostilities, as proof that heritage was not the granter of ability. Thus, several nobles did not wait for Gazef to finish speaking before verbally denying Ainz Ooal Gown one after another, and others followed suit in echoing their denial.

“Enough.” the King spoke, admiration heavy in his tone. “We conclude that the Warrior Captain's assessment is not wrong. Furthermore, the situation is too precarious not to warrant an investigation.”

Old eyes turned to Gazef. “Warrior Captain. I must ask of your service once again. Set out to Re-Ulovale, and investigate this sinking.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

* * *

“You all be good girls now, got it? Good. I'll see you all when I come back.”

The guild treasure of Hostis Humani Generis had been stored away by the fleet's commanders, and Sycorax had just concluded her farewells towards the fleet, ratings and ships included. Normally it would have included her guild members – the Rear Admirals, Vice Admirals, and Admirals, with herself as Admiral of the Fleet – but now the Admiralty was her alone. It was a bit silly to include the ships, but in the spirit of nautical tradition the ships had to be pacified of the Fleet Admiral's return, particularly the flagship _Queen of the Night_.

Sycorax and Caliban took the road on foot. Though the path was mainly coastal, the waves breaking upon the beach and rocky cliffs and land gave their silence some peace in an otherwise monotonous background. The wind blew in from the seas, teasing at the flap of Sycorax's grey wide-brimmed hat in a way that Caliban's beanie could not achieve.

“I hope Nagato can persuade them.” the pirate Admiral commented to herself.

“We'll be fine. As long as you don't create a ruckus in Re-Uloguall.”

“Me?” Sycorax blinked. “Why? You're the combat maniac.”

“I'm a combat maniac because you created me to be one, Admiral.” Caliban replied. “I was created this way. You create a ruckus because you choose to.”

“When you put it like that...” Sycorax sighed as they continued on the road.

Caliban was an Arch-demon, so he could hide any outwardly demonic attributes easily as to be unremarkable. Sycorax, on the other hand, had to resort to the 「Ring of Doppelgänger」. Hence, she had no tail visible. She was dressed with her two legs visible in the robes of a magic caster, albeit one that would look more suited to the Wild West of California than in their current European Middle Ages fantasy setting. Of course, by some bizarre quirk of something, she was unable to hide her white hair or her missing left eye, so the result was something akin to a cowboy pirate with Marie Antoinette syndrome.

“What do you think of humans?” Sycorax started when the silence grew too much.

“I cannot say.”

Sycorax frowned. Judging from Momonga's accounts of Albedo's charming behaviours with regards to humans – 'lower life forms' having prominently featured – she had expected something like that from the commanders. She had aimed to correct that preconception quickly. Caliban's answer thus threw her for a loop. “...you're quite reasonable about it.”

“We are but humble pirates,” Caliban explained. “Although pirates are declared to be the enemy of humanity, is it not paradoxical that humans, demi-humans, and monsters all turn to piracy of some form or other? When we have a haul, do we not serve humans, demi-humans and monsters alike as customers?”

Sycorax's lips twitched. “Did someone teach you that, Caliban?”

“I was rationalising why you worked with humans and demi-humans, even though most of them attacked the ship that expanded into the fleet. How can people call us heroes, and how can other people call us monsters as well? How can cities welcome us and reject us at the same time? How is it that we, who are the guardians of the Fomori fleet, and who are supposed to wholeheartedly serve the Admiralty, can somehow hold the 「Rebellious Spirit」skill?”

One thought rapidly ran through Sycorax's mind. _This guy looks like a punk, but he's got hidden depths!!!_ “So, those are your conclusions?”

“I have come to the conclusion that they were jealous.”

Sycorax was vaguely thankful that she had not gone for her canteen, because she would have spat it out and wasted water. “Jealous?”

“We answer to no one if not at sea. Not even the captain, not even the Admiralty, since we can vote for another. Even our superiors must have reason.” His eyes grew tar-black and bright. “There are no boundaries, no laws, save those we agree on, and no unreasonable punishments. We offer fair barter and fair exchange. They get their goods, and we make a profit fer our risk. In a pirate crew, every man has a voice and a share. Nothing is one man's province. So, our operations are simply business, and discrimination against customers robs us of a customer base. Those who look at us with hard eyes are jealous of our life, and of service under Sycorax-sama.”

“C- Caliban... how very enlightened of you.” Sycorax swallowed. _This is the NPC I created... I made him with the image 'delinquent with hidden depths' in mind._ _I expected this. So, why do I feel... a bit scared?_ “Then, I'm glad that everyone stayed on with the fleet.”

Caliban held his tongue before he could comment on the Fleet Admiral's honesty. Despite that the fleet was more or less unanimous about following their Admiral to the ends of the earth if necessary, they also liked their freedom. If the ignorance and kindness of their Admiral allowed them that, so be it. If praises to the most admired of the admired, the Admiralty, would make her stay, then the fleet would ring with praises for Admiral Sycorax in sync before the day was lost.

However, Caliban had seen men with broken hearts and jealous women snarling at the Fleet Admiral. Accused as a pig or a raven or a witch, Caliban had been there when the fleet had just been one ship, and the Admiralty still a ragtag crew of pirates. The _Bourreau des Cœurs_ had been sunk and melted back into the Trent Ægir during the Fleet's last sojourn into Muspellheimr, but the Admiralty had grown in size and power, and finally reached its height. While the Admiralty spoke about how people left or retired, they had remained until the final day alongside their Admiral, with even their departures reluctant to part from the Admiral's bright presence until they began to leave one by one. If she had asked...

“Anyway, should we use a cover story?” Sycorax questioned. “If our names are asked...”

“We are pirates. Declaring another name is counterproductive.”

“That's true, but it'll be troublesome.” Sycorax thought about it, and shrugged. “We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. If we think about it, it's not too hard. Probably... maybe...”

Foreboding rattled Caliban as he considered the potential chaos that could happen. Just maybe... he should keep an eye on her.

* * *

The Re-Estize Kingdom’s city of Re-Ulovale was situated at the coast, between the North Sea and the Azerlisia Mountains. Since its west front was to the mountains, its entrance protected by a permanent fort, and its back was to the sea, it could easily be considered one of the most naturally defended cities of the Kingdom.

Boasting a radial structure as most royal holdings of the Kingdom, there was a loose spiral of districts which had their own unique characteristics. The Meridional District served military encampments, used for garrisons shuffling between Fort Renner and the city. The Occidental District, closest to the Mountains, held the administrative zone and the upper-class districts. Aside from boasting caves specially for wines, this zone has its own warehouses, and was heavily protected by soldiers. The Septentrional and Oriental Districts served the harbour and most residences respectively.

Of the several plazas within this zone, the biggest one was the central plaza, built with Re-Ulovale Castle overlooking it. Stalls and shops had been jury-rigged about a rough grid plan, and the market was under way. Fishwives hollered the choice catches of the day, fish laid out on blocks of ice for all to see – and smell. In the lively crowd, a shopkeeper proclaimed his cuts of pork as the choicest of the Kingdom. Housewives and mongers squabbled over the price of fresh ingredients. Ships called into port with the regularity of the hours, the calls of their sailors heard even across districts and the city itself. There was an undercurrent of tension, as the soldiers stationed facing the sea at the ports suggested, but life went on. Re-Ulovale might not have the prestige of its inland sisters, but it was the city that never slept, that thrived on news and taverns and the sailors coming into safe harbour. And where their inland neighbours would silently observe, here hisses and cackles followed a pair that trod through the market.

The female was the most prominent, around four-and-twenty, whispered the sailors. The corner of her right eye was sharp, and the pupil itself glittered with the sea's colours. Locks of thick white hair flowed around her neck like loose ropes under a white wide-brimmed hat, and her snow-white skin shimmered with the iridescence of mother-of-pearl. The cloak she wore over herself was forest green and hid her clothes, trailing behind her like a cascade of seaweed. Sailors cackled, some touching the brims of their hats out of respect to someone who so personified the Mother Sea.

The other was her opposite; male, dour, and dressed in black. He wore leather armour under his dark cape, but no weapons clinked underneath, nor did he look like he could fight a stiff breeze. He was tall, and bulky, but next to his sunny companion he might as well be a shadow.

“Everythin' looks good,” the girl smiled as her accent changed to become more rough. “Wha' should we eat, luv~?”

“Weren't we going to the Adventurer's Guild first?” the man softly spoke.

“Troublesome,” the woman complained as she turned to a shop. “Auntie, how much is that herring?”

“Two coppers, miss,” the fishwife smiled back at her. Being large of stature and stocky enough to perhaps lift two barrels herself, even the woman dwarfed Sycorax. “I can throw it into the pan for half a copper more.”

“Oh? Please do!” Sycorax paid out two and a half coppers, waiting as the fishmonger's wife stoked the communal stove her store shared with the neighbouring cookshop. The smell of fried herring enticed more passers-by, some of which ducked under the covers of the rigged stores to sit down and consider the public menu scribbled on wooden plaques on the wall. “You don't need to use salt.”

“Well, that's a relief,” the fishmonger remarked as she spooned out the fish onto a plate and handed it back over the makeshift counter. “God knows herring is salty enough in the sea already, but there's no flavour.”

“Luckily, I know a salt guy who owed me, and guess what he paid!” Delicately, Sycorax fished out from under her cloak a bottle of pink crystals, pinching inside to scatter a bit onto the offered fish.

“Slap me thrice and call me mama.” The fishmonger's wife fixated onto the bottle, her exclamation drawing attention up and down the market. “That's expensive!”

“Is it?” Sycorax shrugged, putting the bottle away into her cloak before starting on her fish with her own knife. Actually, it went into a pocket of her travelling satchel. “My friend's a salt-maker. He has barrels and barrels of salt, but he doesn't know where to sell them. How about this, Auntie? I can sell you this salt, bottle and all, for five silver, and you introduce me to someone I can introduce to my friend.”

“Well!” the fishwife drew back, her voice turning into a softer burr that was somehow filtered through Sycorax's ears as a hint of Scots. “Ma man and I, we don' use such fancy salt. But if yer up for it, you could sell it to that skinflint, Bardo Lovely. He's based in E-Rantel, but he usually moves around. His warehouse is at the Septentrional.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” Sycorax gave a small smile and another copper.

Nodding and munching on her herring as she walked off, Sycorax mentally mapped the roads that she stood upon. Brandishing the salt around must have attracted attention, attention that would hardly be missed if she was to spirit them away for questions...

They had not even cleared the first row of buildings when six burly men accosted them in the tight alley.

“Gentlemen, and lady,” one of them spoke. “Don't mind making an honest charitable donation? So generous of ye to share, ya know- Ow!”

In a human form, Sycorax had gone for the opening gambit of kicking the speaker in the groin. Behind her, Caliban surged forth, easily cracking bone with every punch and breaking body parts. Sycorax herself drew a small knife, placing the tip of it on the Adam's apple of the man.

“We need a guide of the town, mister. Would ye be so kind? We'll even pay you. Course, we only need one.”

Behind her, the man paled as he watched Caliban break a neck and toss the dead mugger towards another with barely a pause, taking down two more and then flipping the one who was running towards her. If he said no...

“Ah, reimbursement is assured. In the fact that I won't slice your throat,” Sycorax added. “Or do something else to you. Swear it on the Code.”

“Code- you're a pirate?” the man yelped.

“Er, yep,” Sycorax smirked.

“Parley!” someone screamed behind her.

“Belay that noise,” Sycorax absently ordered. There was another _crack_ , and then there was one man left.

Sycorax rolled her eyes at the sudden surge of ammonia. Nobody had run to help them, nobody had come in... this was possibly the seedier areas. “Parley. Talk, and I let you go.”

Run hadn't meant much when his friends and himself had decided to rob the pretty lady with the expensive salt. He certainly hadn't expected pirates looking into the Kingdom. Since the worst thing he really did was smuggling for the Eight Fingers at the bottom rung, there was no ransom for him. Judging from the amusement of the white-haired woman, she called the shots. So he blabbed, and promised to the Gods that he would turn a new leaf once he left, and spit flew from his lips to hit her eye. Sycorax drew back, pulling off her eye-patch with a cry.

He then knew pain and darkness.

Grimacing as she wiped the eye-patch and tied it back on, Sycorax noted the detail of the statue which had once been flesh and blood. “So that's how it does that.”

“He deserved it,” Caliban replied tonelessly.

“I feel a bit sorry for him...” Sycorax lifted her hand, causing the statue to float behind her with magic. “Check their pockets for valuables.”

“Didn't you say that you'd let him go?” Caliban questioned as they rolled the statue along its lightened weight. Caliban carried the bodies behind her as they walked through the deserted alleys towards the wharves.

“I did let him go,” Sycorax shrugged as the pair of them slowly walked away, tossing the corpses down a wharf as they passed with alacrity, Sycorax muttering a word to release the weight-control spell once the statue had collapsed down. The statue made a  _thunk_ and  _splash_ as it went down, crushing the bodies underneath it as well and preventing them from being discovered until the harbour was dredged. “Didn't specify what state I had to let him go. And I keep my word.”

* * *

Having plundered a small fortune in muggings, the pair of them walked across the city, parking themselves in the Alacer Arms tavern to order ale and lunch. Sycorax would have found it filthy by her standards, but well-used according to what she had seen around. The Alacer Arms was currently serving plenty of men in chain-mail with weapons, which led her to conclude that this must be an adventurer's hideout.

"Looking for a room? How many nights?" His voice sounded like a hurdy-gurdy gone wrong.

“One night.” Sycorax indicated.

The boss narrowed his eyes, comparing the pair. “...not an adventurer. Communal hall will be five copper coins per night. Oatmeal with vegetables will be complementary, one more copper if you want meat. The oatmeal might be replaced with bread several days old.”

“Uncle,” Sycorax smirked, pulling out one money-bag and drawing a silver coin out. “I'm going to be very busy passing through this city on business. What will this get me?”

The about-face that the boss did made many adventurers sit up and stare. “You don't want to be flashing that around the city, miss. Of course, we would give a person like yourself so much better, but as you can see, the Kingdom's garrison's staying here.”

“Garrison?” Sycorax echoed. “Don't they stay in the barracks?”

The boss spat on the floor behind the counter. “And don't I know it. But the fort is run by His Lordship Fehu. A big blowhard, if ye ask me.”

“Well...” the silver coin disappeared, replaced with a stack of coppers. “Mr Proprietor. Let's start by lunch and a drink, and _then_ negotiations.”

“Not that simple, miss.” The boss shook his head and motioned. Sycorax whirled around and looked up to meet a dark-haired warrior, older and looking towards her with concern in eyes sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Is there a problem, miss?”

“Well, the boss here is keen on leaving a lovely girl like me-self all on me lonesome in the communal hall.” Sycorax drawled, picking another manner of identity. “The name's Sycorax. You?”

“Gazef Stronoff.”

She had no idea what that meant, but Sycorax rolled along. “Cor, wonderful. What's yer business?”

“My deepest apologies for butting in.” Gazef inclined his head down to her. “I seem to have taken the last room. If you wish, I could give you the room and reclaim my payment, or I could escort you to another inn.”

He couldn't be for real, was Sycorax's first thought.

“Well, Captain, if you put it like that, how could a girl refuse?” Sycorax ran a finger down his breastplate and sidestepped, just brushing him on her way. “Belay my order, boss. We're movin' on.”

To Gazef, she smiled. “See ye soon, big man.”

Caliban wordlessly followed Sycorax out of the tavern, watching as Sycorax counted the coins from the relatively more well-maintained money-bag in her hand in front of the tavern window, sneaking a meaningful look towards inside. He also ran as Sycorax flat-footed it once the rallying cry came up.

“THIEF!”

Sycorax shrugged as she rounded into an alley, dropping her distinctive hat onto Caliban's head. “Run around, Caliban. I'm gonna break in.”

Hissing but unable to demand a reply as the knights took after him, Caliban ran with an athleticism much more than most normal humans.

The buildings about them were barely two storeys, sloped roofs tiled and high with chimneys set up to let smoke out when cooking, and ledges jutting out into the alleys. Sycorax chose one particular shop-house whose window-box jutted out, leaping up to the high recessed window. Fingers digging into the wooden grilles for purchase as she clambered up to the roof. She leant back to consider the aerial perspective of Re-Ulovale.

Sycorax calculated the distance of the streets. Being that the shophouses encroached upon the paths like so many barnacles, the width really was variable depending on where you stood. It was thus possible for Sycorax to leap over to the next roof and calculate her path away from the squad chasing Caliban.

Like this, she ran and jumped back to the Alacer Arms, breaking in via the biggest window on the second storey. It was clean, barely touched, and someone's satchel and full-plate armour was draped over the foot of the bed.

Sycorax rifled through the satchel to identify, with the help of a word-deciphering tool, a sheaf of papers bearing a warrant borne by Gazef Stronoff. “Er... 'Warrant of Investigation... I, King Lanposa the Third, hereby grant Warrior Captain Gazef Stronoff to investigate the sinking of the Baharuth warship _Nazami Enec_ as a potential security threat' The ship that night?”

She put the papers back. “What should we do here? Momonga-san might freak out like this. If that's the case, then... it'll all work out, anyway!”

She then dropped them back, turning on her heel to walk out the front door. Winking at a pair of stunned soldiers on guard, she strode down to the tavern. Dropping a slightly worn, if clean, money-bag on the counter, she caught the proprietor's and several more people's undivided attention.

“Tell the Captain I had fun,” she purred to their stares, sliding out through the door with a perky salute just in time to meet Caliban and swipe her hat back before running away with the arch-demon.

A mug dropped and shattered. At some point, everyone had failed to comprehend what had just blown through the Alacer Arms.

* * *

「You _picked_ his pocket?!」

「Pirate.」

「You... Sycorax-san, what if you got caught?!」

「Then I need to be better.」

「Seriously? There's jail involved!」

「So how does that explain the Thief class? Remember, Pirates are Thieves.」

「And how do you plan to explain breaking into Gazef-san's room and looking through his papers, after picking his pocket, I might add?!」 Momonga was changing tacks on his argument.

「What's there to explain to who? Only you and I know.」

「Well... where are you?」

「Still in Re-Ulovale. Today I accidentally turned a guy to stone.」

「...do you... want to talk about it? Actually, how did that happen?」

「Well... I put the Eye of Stheno in my left eye socket. I accidentally took it off, and looked at someone, so that's the result.」

「Left eye? You put it... in your eye? That's a Gorgon's Eye! That's a Divine-class artefact! How... interesting. Why did you do that?」

「Didn't I tell you? It turns out that by drinking the waters of Mimisbrunnr in YGGDRASIL, you get the option to take up a new job class, Othinus. To take it up, you must consent to have your avatar become one-eyed.」

「You mean... O- Od-」

「No way. Why would I stay around then? Anyway, I found myself with an empty eye socket, so I equipped the Eye of Stheno there. It's not overkill, is it?」

「I think you just missed overkill when you blinded yourself for a job class, never mind the Divine-class artefact in your skull! The game company can do that?」

「I'm famous for this. 'Pirate Sycorax', 'Sycorax the One-Eyed'... I got a lot of nicknames. You really didn't know? It's just an avatar... well, it _was_ an avatar...」

「How? Just... how?」

「Why did you think I decided to control the area around the Well?」

「I don't- well.」

「What is up with you?」

「Negative energy keeps sealing back my feelings. If I feel too intensely, I get shut down immediately. I don't think I can be of help, Sycorax-san, for your guilt or otherwise.」

「My guilt... it's fine, Momonga-san. You are still working hard to keep some empathy. I'll figure out the Eye's powers myself. If I can undo the transformation, or what limitations it has... Actually, I wonder exactly how does it operate. If I had turned the Warrior Captain to stone...」

「That's a scary thought. You picked his pocket, led him on a wild goose chase while you broke into his room, and then the guards just let you walk out and run away, and now you're going to turn him to stone?」

「I'm very good at embracing the noblest and oldest of pirate traditions! And that last one was just a thought I had.」

「Says the woman who makes her dungeon available only once a week via collapsible gangplank. No one thought you'd booby-trap the entrance to collapse if anyone boarded.」

「Well, it was the only way to loophole the Ariadne System!」

In YGGDRASIL, the Ariadne system checked the validity of a created base. The simplest way of creating an invincible fortress was to seal the entrance, and thus ensure that no one would be able to get in. Just burying the entire Grand Tomb of Nazarick underground would be enough. As a game, this was not allowed. In order to stop one from making such a base, the Ariadne system checked for a path that led from the entrance to the heart of the base. Other points that Ariadne inspected was the distance one could travel inside, how many doors there were, and various other rules on base construction set in great detail. Dungeons that violated the rules would be flagged by the YGGDRASIL system and fined, deducting Guild funds gradually at a visible rate that bankrupted most Guilds sooner or later.

Needless to say, this posed a few issues for Hostis Humani Generis, since a fleet of ships was more or less inaccessible except via boat or flight magic, and could move if threatened. It was one definition of inaccessible, to those without the knowledge. Sycorax solved the problem by docking once a week and setting up a trapped gangplank up to the deck of any ship on the fleet. One could, in theory, reach the flagship from any lesser ship of the fleet, assuming that one had the dexterity to get past the gangplank. Those who tried to fly to the decks found themselves facing Phaeton and the air superiority of the fleet's aerial division.

「I can't even believe that you made your base as a fleet,」Momonga complained good-naturedly. 「You totally cheated. The Grand Tomb of Nazarick might be unconquered, but your Fomori fleet is the only dungeon to have whole guilds complain that it's too much work getting in.」

「 _Pirate_.」

「Sigh... if this was a fair comparison, the Grand Tomb would win.」

「Then that's not much incentive for me to fight fair, Momonga-san.」

「Yeah. That's true. I... became an adventurer. I used 'Momonga' as my cover. The work is... surprisingly boring. What about you, Sycorax-san?」

「I sold salt to a guy called Bardo Lovely. He's a merchant based in E-Rantel, but he came down to check on some goods coming in through the harbour. I held off registering as an Adventurer. I don't think it suits me.」

「...you're right. The Guildmaster would throw you out. Especially since you just stole from the strongest warrior in the Kingdom.」

「 _Borrowed_. I returned it to him.」

「Fine, you borrowed his money, led him on a wild goose chase and broke into his room to peek at papers with restricted access. No Guild would want you near them.」

「Hmph. By the way, I discovered that the Baharuth Empire next door is interested in the sinking ship, though, so that's warranted.」

「Sycorax-san!」

「Well, since I'm being set up as the bad guy here, I think your adventurer what's his face can come down once there's a quest out.」

「I don't want to fight you, Sycorax-san.」

「Neither do I. And you don't have to, since we'll figure something out before that. In the meantime, I'm going to focus my efforts on the Empire.」

「Hopefully we can find more people then, Sycorax-san.」

「But I'm a bit worried...」

「Sycorax-san?」

「Potatoes are really expensive. I should eat less of them.」

「Sycorax-san...? -.-'」

「Well, the best thing to do now is check on the investigation. Tomorrow I'm going to shadow Gazef Stronoff about town. Then when I'm done, I'm going back to the fleet and we're going to outfit ourselves to have an expedition of the Baharuth Empire.」

「I see... do take care, Sycorax-san. We really do need a method other than 「Message」to talk...」

「I'll send a letter to the E-Rantel Adventurers Guild.」

「How am I supposed to figure out which letter is yours? What if people read it?!」

「I'll make it really obvious. So keep a weather eye out, because I will come to you.」

「I'll take your word for it. So, today Narberal nearly killed...」

Concluding the message once Momonga had finished venting about the complete lack of empathy in the NPCs of Nazarick, Sycorax leant back, sitting with her snake lower body coiled as her seat on the bed of the room that they had rented in the Septentrional district, directly across the Meridional and its garrisons. “Caliban?”

“Yes?” The arch-demon sat up in the room's only chair.

“Why do you follow me?”

“We are beings created by the Admiralty-”

“Caliban.” Sycorax interrupted. “The question is directed personally. As such, you need not consider any other opinion than your own.”

“...I see.” Eyes like the deepest Prussian blue ink flickered around. “I want to serve you.”

“Even if I made you my bait, like today?”

Caliban reflected on the question before he spoke.

“I admit that my cognitive biases as a creation of the Admiralty gets in the way. Despite being equipped with 「Rebellious Spirit」, I find myself unthinkingly following your directions, as your creation. Following the reasoning that I was created to defend the Fleet, which is by extension your creation, I exist solely to set up your success. Since this purpose does not conflict with 「Rebellious Spirit」, I can only conclude that the passive skill exists to ensure my loyalty to you.”

Sycorax thought about it. “That's... based on the position that you were created only for that purpose. I have to admit, I didn't expect to speak much with my own creation, or to be so articulate, but somehow I'm quite happy that you learnt so much without me. I think, if you find some way to fulfil your purpose, even without being physically present... then what will you do afterwards?”

“...I don't know.”

“When that is done, you would be free.” Sycorax explained. “You were created a pirate, but you don't have to stay as a pirate. All of this sea and sky will surely give you possibilities. Survive. Explore. I expect great things from you. I believe that one day, you, and everyone else in the fleet, will find the answer to that question. But until then, you'll just have to put up with this foolish admiral.”

“Aye-aye, Admiral.” Caliban smiled slightly.  _Even if I have reached that enlightenment, I would still choose to be at your side._

* * *

http://overlordmaruyama.wikia.com/wiki/User:LordRimus [  
](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/overlordmaruyama/images/8/8b/NEW_Overlord_World_Map_2_Borders.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20151014222614)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if you guys know it already, but I'm a bit worried about the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) and its stance on animé, manga and fanfiction, and whether it would affect my access to all three of them. I'm worried that it would affect FF.net and AO3, and I'm also buried in work. I want to finish Dioscuri in the event that the sites are hit with DMCA or something similar, so I'm going to concentrate my efforts on Dioscuri. In short, updates on Hostis Humani Generis will be delayed a fair bit! – LLS
> 
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!


	6. V: Ashore

A collective sigh echoed as eight bells started to ring out, signalling the end of afternoon watch. Sparks of lights that turned out to be fairies fluttered about, signalling the change of watches and rotation of shifts. Some sailors awoke around the deck at catcalls; others required a bit more effort. Merry's band of singing shipwrights had stopped their shanties and were now settling for a break, listening to the twang of Merry playing his guitar absently.

Ariel considered the fleet all around, relaxed and nestled in the riggings of the Mahogany. He listened to the steady arpeggio of tolling bells, musical as they rang to signal the time and the start of the next watch.

Under his breath, he sang. The sea breeze whipped the worlds away, echoing across the North Sea.

   
_Full fathom five, thy father lies..._  
_Of his bones are coral made..._  
_Those are pearls that were his eyes..._

_Full fathom five thy father lies..._  
_Of his bones are coral made..._  
_Those are pearls that were his eyes..._  
 

The squeaks of the riggings stopped. Across the fleet, Fishmen and others immersed in their busy work stopped to listen to the enchanting song, and the power of its singer to enchant just so, even without any deliberate magical power immersed in the song.

   
_Nothing of him that doth fade,_  
_But doth suffer a sea-change,_  
_Into something rich and strange..._  
_oh, rich and strange..._

_Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:_  
_Ding-dong._  
_Hark! now I hear them..._  
_Ding-dong, bell._  
_Ding-dong, bell._  
_Ding-dong, bell..._  
 

“Belay that! That's creepy, that's what it is!!!!”

“You're the creepy one, bird-brain!” Ariel hollered back at Phaeton, who was glaring from the crow's nest of the  _Spruce_. “You ruined the song!”

“I stopped the 「Siren's Song」from sending our messengers overboard, idiot!” Phaeton's answer caused all the sailors to roll their eyes and return to busy work.

A huddle of Nereus' nimble-fingered daughters, the Nereids, looked up from untangling a mass of cinnamon strands from a heavy chest on the deck of the brig-sloop, the  _Larch,_ at the commotion. Their opinions were made even more strongly known with high-pitched yells towards the Fifth Division Commander.

“Everyone here can swim!”

“It's not like it would affect _us_.”

“It'll affect my crew!” Phaeton's rage was made even more palpable. “I knew you idiots never think about the aerial corps.”

“You take that back!” Ariel shouted. Above them, the previously blue skies gave a clap of thunder as his hands glowed.

“You gonna dump a storm on me?! Fine!” Fire erupted in Phaeton's hands, joining to form a recurve bow of red-painted wood. As he drew the bowstring, light gathered itself to nock at where a normal arrow should be.

The crews started to move their work to below decks. The Nereids sorting the chest started to close it and secure their treasure below decks. Some more faces, mostly female, poked out of the surrounding waters to watch, their eyes glittering with the prospect of blood.

The toll of a bell resounded, far louder than any of the ships' bells. The light dissipated as Phaeton was thrown off course, letting go of the string without firing. Ariel fell out of the rigging, and a thump resounded along the magical ice that made up the  _Mahogany_.

“No fighting aboard!” Nagato's voice echoed across the decks despite her physical presence still on the quarterdeck of the flagship. “Ariel. Phaeton. Take it on land when you get to it.”

“Huh?!” Ariel leapt to his feet, rubbing his arse where he had landed before the mast.

“The Admiral will have painful questions if the ships got destroyed,” came the reply. “So would Merry. Would you like to explain to the Admiral, the fleet's bosun, or to the cat first?”

“Ah, fine!” Phaeton jabbed an arm towards Ariel's direction. “Land ho, wee spirit.”

“It's not your shore leave yet, Commander!” The cry came up from the  _Spruce_  in disgruntlement. “You're not allowed to take your matelot anywhere!”

“Shut up! Goshawk, the deck needs holy-stoning, or you'll be strung by the wings to the poop deck!”

Aboard the  _Queen of the Night_ , Bonny paused her perusal of the plans for the fleet's magical defences at the titters and catcalls. “Matelot?”

Nagato shrugged. “If I recall, it is a form of marriage amongst the Admiralty. They are rather non-partisan about such things, are they not?”

Answer received, Bonny silently turned back to her work. “Tough.”

“I agree.” Nagato assessed a few more hydro-graphs that the First Division's Nereids had, along with maps and soundings of their surroundings, especially the deserted island that was their harbour at the moment. “It must be tough for them to belong to different ships. Assuming that they were matelots and not simply prone to quarrelling.”

“Nereids?”

“Not a preference. Or an issue, since we still have boats full of men.”

“Nagato?”

“No, I don't need a matelot, being an Automaton-” Nagato paused as her words, and their audience, slowly sank in. “Bonny?”

The Wraith frowned. “Nagato deserves matelot.”

The quartermaster smiled. “Thank you.”

The female commanders then winced as the next song came on the heels of the loud argument's conclusion:

   
_With Cat-Like Tread!_  
_Upon our prey we steal!_  
_In silence dread!_  
_Our cautious way we feel!_  
 

* * *

The soldiers aboard the large cog  _Cocha_  numbered about forty. Having set out before he had a chance to recruit more, Gazef Stronoff nevertheless felt that the choice of bringing less men for the investigation was warranted. The  _Nazami Enec_  had sunk, leaving no trace of foul play in the middle of the ocean, and much like others in the south – in fact, in most of the Kingdom – Gazef could not swim in the deep ocean. His men, too, were nervous; the Merman Navy controlled the blue-waters, leaving humans to eke out a living along the coasts with their ships unable to battle below the surface and leaving humans to the mercies of the capricious ocean.

The captain of the ship praying aloud to the god of water did not help.

“There is nothing to investigate, at least not here.” Gazef stated the obvious, trying not to cave into helplessness when every toss and wave could easily tip him overboard. “I need a rope to go in.”

The men, especially his lieutenant, protested immediately.

“Captain, you'll drown!”

“The Mermen likely know we're out here, aye.” The grizzled old man who captained the  _Cocha_  shuddered. “We ain't got a Sea Witch's power, an' steel ain't much help when it rusts at the bottom o' the sea. We ain't got nuthin'. We're doomed.”

“But I must still investigate, sir, before the same occurrence happens to our fishing boats.” Gazef reasoned, unaware of the surveillance currently trained on the ship.

Floating on a small row-boat bobbing on the waves of the North Sea, Sycorax yawned slightly, breaking the monotony of scribbling on a gathering of paper.

E-book novels in the form of codices could exist in YGGDRASIL. They included classics whose copyright had expired, background stories distributed by the development team, original novels written by players, fanfiction based on the worlds of YGGDRASIL, game guides in the form of diaries or novels, and in certain cases illegally distributed books, and so on. They also included spells embedded in books that anyone can use, and qualified as magic items, but that was slightly more technical. Sycorax had dabbled in the digital piracy trade as her literal job, her talents as a fully qualified Scribe allowing her to distribute novels without being noticed as well as certain magical items.

That was not to say that her other talents as a Scribe had not been in demand; Scribes were the only people who could create the books needed to summon mercenary monsters in dungeons, create maps for dungeons, and the grimoires needed for racial and job classes could be made by a competent Scribe. Scribes also had the「Competence in Written Comprehension」skill that allowed them to read any language, and hence Sycorax had been able to read the text in this brave new world despite its total disparity to her languages. Plus, Michelle Kaiō had worked in a library, where a librarian's research skills were bread and butter. To raise funds for Hostis Humani Generis, Sycorax had compiled books, like a「Book of the Dead」for a certain Skeleton Mage in Ainz Ooal Gown to raise himself into an Elder Lich.

In the sky overhead, Caliban hovered using bat-like leathery wings sprouted from his back, eyes shielded with his hand to glare across the sea towards the horizon, where multiple cogs floated on the sea in his view, glaring impotently into the water. As he watched, a few ships drifted away from the main fleet of hulks towards the further coasts.

He activated「Message.」. “「Admiral?」”

Sycorax sat up at the ping of the Message. 「Caliban. Did they find something?」

「No. Bloody hell, If we could listen to them...」

「Come down here. I think I have something.」

Watching her hand disappear into black space, Sycorax pondered about the 「Master of Organisation」passive skill that Thieves, Archers and Pirates had, which granted a larger Item Box. Did it still apply? She looked, and yes, all of the items on her person still equated to an extremely large arsenal.

Pleased, she grabbed a binder from it, flipping it open as Caliban steadily descended.

“What's that?” Caliban pointed.

“It's a stack of scrolls.” Sycorax opened the binder, tracing her finger down the first page.

“Scrolls look like that?”

“They don't.” Sycorax admitted. “It's just me. I find it easier to search for scrolls if they're organised according to purpose beforehand. So, a general reconnaissance kit is already prepared beforehand.”

Tearing out a stack of papers, Sycorax stuck the binder back into the black space before she tossed up each sheet except one, the papyri dissolving into a shower of light particles as the inscribed spells activated. “「False Cover」. 「Counter Detect」. 「Anti-Information Magic Wall」. 「Greater Shield from Retaliate」. 「Astral Veil」. 「Clairvoyance」. 「Wind-Carrying Ear」.”

A screen shimmered before her, showing the wooden deck of a ship. Upon the deck stood a few knights in greyed plate armour, looking over the deck and down. Gazef Stronoff was amongst them, and Sycorax grimaced as the view panned from behind the men to directly above them, looking at the blue-black of the sea.

“There's nothing at all, Captain.” Gazef was saying. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“Aye, this be the place where that storm happened.” The captain of the ship replied. “Could be the sea claiming one of her own. Bad luck.”

_More like it's bad luck to cross us,_ thought Sycorax.

“Any evidence would have sunk with the ship,” Gazef commented. “Maybe the shore team would have more luck.”

“Shore team- they're checking the shore?” Sycorax scowled as she manipulated the screen until it sunk down into the depths of the sea, the picture resolution blurred as it approached the wreck of the warship.  _Nazami Enec_  glimmered on the ship's flat transom. Crooking her pointer finger made the picture zoom out until she could view the entire wreck from one point. “They can't even trace it back to us. What was I thinking? We could have just left and everyone would have treated it as another out-of-place artefact-”

“Admiral. Someone's releasing a carrier pigeon.”

“Eh?” Sycorax tore her eyes up, watching the silhouette of a pigeon take to the skies from the direction of the ships. “Caliban, get that pigeon. Alive.”

The boat rocked as Caliban took to the skies, and Sycorax used the Clairvoyance to look about for more pigeons until the boat rocked again. This time, it was accompanied with the smell of burnt feather, causing Sycorax to wrinkle her nose. Sycorax grabbed the bird, pulling a scroll from a pouch on its foot and handing the bird to Caliban for safekeeping.

“Let's see... 'Freak storm confirmed. Wreck found off coast, two klicks from Re-Ulovale. Tell immediately-' what's this character? 'King'? No, I'm sure I saw this sigil before... oh, there's more. 'Will dredge it up to recover wool of sea quick.'「Camera Obscura」.”

The last piece of paper in her hand sparked into flame, and burnt an exact copy of the message onto its surface without turning into ashes itself. Sycorax folded the paper away into her pocket, before rolling up the message and attaching it to the pigeon before letting it go.

“Right.” Sycorax nodded. “Let's get back to shore and the fleet before they find us-”

A hole appeared out of nowhere, shattering like glass as it quickly disappeared.

“Intelligence magic?!” Sycorax and Caliban snapped to attention, looking about as Sycorax pulled out her binder and extracted another sheet of parchment before putting the binder back. “「Trace On」.”

A luminous trail emerged as the parchment burned, spiralling from around Sycorax in a straight line towards-

“The sea! 「Wave Rise」!”

The sea rose where Sycorax pointed, enveloping within it a squad of five entities into the bulbous lump of rippling water. Five in all, they were men with the upper halves of a human, but their lower halves gleamed with the silver-white tails of fish. One held a trident, another a staff, and the other three had pole-arms.

“Mermen!” Sycorax gasped as the enlarged wave broke, causing the boat to thrash wildly on the surface.

“Should I deal with them, Sycorax-sama?” Caliban clung onto the hull of the boat.

“I'll handle it,” Sycorax assured, donning a set of brass knuckles as the armed Mermen broke the surface. Dodging the trident stabbed in her direction, she leant forward and lashed out at the Merman. Her knuckles created sparks as they skidded on contact with the trident's pole, growing in size into an almost-visible blow on the Merman.

“Huh.” She kicked the next one, barely sitting back down before the boat capsized, and then orienting herself to face the three men.

“「Squall Uppercut」!”

As the only jobs allowed to use firearms, Pirates were usually gunslingers in YGGDRASIL. This was balanced with the Gunner class introduced in the Valkyrie's Downfall update. Some labelled them as mainly long-ranged fighters. While that was technically true; Pirates were actually a build that shone in mixed combat. Sycorax preferred weapons over fists, but she still fought equally well with knuckle dusters as with flintlocks.

Now, as she punched the air, mana sparked from her hands to create a small tornado, ten metres high and five metres wide. The miniature storm spun towards the Mermen, carrying them up into the air with gale-force winds as sparks of mana attacked them with damage both physical and magic.

“What, a 5th-tier attack is enough?” Sycorax muttered to herself. “Perhaps the stacking effects from it...”

“Get the ships!” The Merman with the trident called. “We'll hold their guide off!”

“Huh?” Sycorax blinked.

“Looks like they think we're with the humans, Sycorax-sama.” Caliban assessed the situation.

“How does that matter now?” Sycorax grumbled as four of the Mermen disappeared back down into the ocean, leaving the speaker behind. “Oi, you. Do you have business with us?”

“Human, this ocean is claimed under the Agrand Council Alliance!” the Merman stabbed closer with his trident, which Sycorax dodged and grabbed, reeling the Merman close to punch at him.

The Merman let go, dodging her charged fist. “I see. You can use magic too.”

“What is the Agrand Council Alliance?” Sycorax demanded.

“What, you don't know of us?” the Merman laughed. “It's forbidden to humans!”

Sycorax took off her ring. The trousers and shoes fell to the bottom of the boat, allowing her snake tail free reign as she glared down at him. “I'm not human.”

“Nagini?!” The Merman was taken aback, but shook his head. His features might be considered handsome, but Sycorax was in no mood to pay attention. “You're also a demi-human, like us. Why do you side with humans?”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” Sycorax shot back. “I just arrived here!”

“Just...” the Merman's face flushed of colour. “I see, a magic item that allows disguise. My mistake. I am Homard, Captain in the Merman Navy. My apologies!”

Observing the man, Sycorax noted his slender features, cheekbones sharp enough to cut and skin with blued and white scales on the edges of his chin. It matched his blue-tinted hair. His smile was boyish as he directed it at her, though she could not pass much of a judgement about the rest of him, hidden under the sea it was.

“It is no matter,” she decided. “You cannot be faulted for an honest mistake.”

“It must be hard for you, my lady.” Homard's head bobbed. “We will escort you to shore on Alliance land once the humans are finished.”

Sycorax tilted her head. “So... you just need to get rid of the humans from the ocean, right?”

“That is correct.”

“Hmm...” Sycorax stood up, observing the skies. “There's a cloud coming in from the south, and the storm following it will blow the fleet back to their Kingdom.”

Homard looked up to the clear blue skies. “I fear that your prediction skills are not up to par.”

“I just decided it,” Sycorax held up both hands, palms facing skyward. “「Control Weather」.”

The skies changed from their light blue to an angry soot-black, peppered with white lightning. Winds howled in from the south, and the waves grew choppier and raged, causing the boat and the Merman to roll with every crest and trough.

Concentrating, Sycorax turned her palms towards herself, sweeping her fingers out in a fan. The cries of humans echoed as their boats were tossed and turned by the sea, and some were flung like the release of stones from a sling, back towards the coast of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

Sycorax's lone eye glimmered as the ships were slowly tossed back, and the flashing fins approaching from the horizon signalled the returning of the Mermen squad. As the last ship was tossed back, her palms turned down, and the seas calmed slowly in time with the descent of her hands, back upon the hull.

“A storm blew in, and returned all the humans to shore. We no longer have reason to pursue them.”

Homard stared at this creature of scales and flesh aboard the boat, a being who had so easily used magic that dwelt in the realm of legends. “S- Sixth-tier magic... w- what are you?”

“I'm a pirate.” Sycorax showed a fang with her smile. “And I think... I don't know what is this Alliance, or where it is, or anything else. I don't want to go with you. Is there a particular reason I should? If not, I'll be on my way.”

“W- Wait!” Homard shouted as the boat turned by magic to float towards the coast. “The Agrand Council Alliance will welcome you with open arms! You will be celebrated and pardoned, honourable magic caster!”

“Ah, is that so?” Sycorax purred as the boat continued along. “I am a pirate, though. Good day, Captain Homard.”

The boat ran itself aground, Sycorax putting on her ring to step onto dry land with two bare feet. She grimaced at the sand that got on her feet, opting to stand and watch the waves wash it off before she pulled out a pair of open-toed sandals and a skirt. Pulling it on in full view of Caliban, Sycorax ignored the arch-demon and concentrated in smoothing out the pleats.

“They had a good deal.” Caliban murmured. “We could have gotten a letter of marque.”

“Caliban,” lectured Sycorax, “if they can claim this whole ocean, it is obvious that they don't need the services of a single privateer, let alone the whole fleet. I imagine that their amphibian forces must be top-notch, to battle ships without a ship of the line of their own. No, a surface fleet is useless to them.”

“The only remaining coastal nations are the Kingdom and the Baharuth Empire. We sank the Empire's warship, and we just blew the men from Re-Estize back to the coastal zone. Admiral, this might be hard.”

“Lacking a letter of marque, the only option remains...” Sycorax pondered. “... is to murder, pillage and plunder our hearts out. We live on the fringes, we need to build a reputation. And we need a base, more than a wee island within volleying distance of the Kingdom. All of those objectives aside from plunder need money, preferably not ours.”

Sycorax mentally tallied the hundred gold coins she had gotten for selling Merry's salt. “We got something for the Fleet's coffers; not much, though. What we need are connections too... ideally, we should sack this city, the village near our base, and the other coastal city in the Empire... How much do you think writing services are worth?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then we must check at the scriveners' guild, assuming such an institution exists. I believe that we will see Captain Homard again very soon.” Sycorax leant back. “I be in a predicament. There are three potential clients, and I know nothing about all of them.”

Back on the coast, Gazef spat out a mouthful of seawater. Around him, several knights groaned and shook sand away from their bodies, unaware of having escaped a narrow death by Merman.

* * *

「Did you know,」started Sycorax on her nightly call, 「that the Kingdom and the Empire can't control their economies?」

「Huh? Are you serious?」

「Dead serious. I was at the scriveners' guild – that's the Scribe Guild – and all the records were at the scriptorium. I got a look in-」

「You can read?! Wait, what am I saying, Sycorax-san, please.」

「As I was saying... I looked at the deeds and contracts. I even mocked up a story about tracing my lineage, so be thankful. Anyway, I found a few codices on law, and according to the copies I made with 「Bibliothèque Bleue」, we're in a literally medieval economy. As in, pre-Italian Renaissance, completely feudal economy.」

「Ah..」

「That means no corporations exist, Momonga-san.」

「Urk! That's... not good.」

「It's not familiar, but I doubt Adventurers need to care too much about that. However, pirates are still  _hostis humani generis_.」

「Eh? You mean all pirates are under your guild?」

「 _NO!_   _Hostis humani generis_  is a legal term denoting that a pirate is an enemy of humanity and gives an automatic death sentence. The same seems to apply for the Mermen soldiers I met today-」

「Mermen?!」

「I handled it, but they ran away when I was getting Gazef Stronoff away from the North Sea by wave. Since I used 「Control Weather」, they'll probably be back, so no worries on that front. Besides that, today I sent a letter for Momonga-san, care of the Adventurer's Guild, with an extra envelope. Expect it in a week.」

「Y- Yes...」

「So, what did you do today?」

「Erm... Nabe and I- I mean, Narberal Gamma and myself... lost our group.」

Sycorax paused.「The Swords of Darkness?」

「Yes. Our client was targeted, and they were all killed. I killed the killer and saved E-Rantel from an outbreak of undead, b- but...」

Sycorax thought about the bundle of sticks in her pocket, the magical item which could solve this, or screw things up worse. 「My condolences.」

「Why? I... I didn't care. They were tools to make me famous. I- I didn't care.」

「But they were part of your party all the same. Even if they died, that does not mean that your meeting did not impact your life somehow. I feel sad about being separated from my guild-mates too, but life goes on, and I believe that no matter where, they would want me to be happy. I'm sure that the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown would want the same of you, Momonga-san.」

「I see. Thank you. Sycorax-san... I want to remember them. But... I don't have anything that can help me remember them. Not like Pandora's Actor.」

「I don't think you need anything like that. Hmm... you have an item?」

「A knife. But I was thinking something more... enchanting.」

「Write it in a diary? A journal?」

「I'll try... Sycorax-san, how do you remember your guild-mates?」

「Besides an image capture? I used an old song from Studio Ghibli. You know, the Miyazaki era.」

「Ah, those classics! I remember. I used to watch them when I was young! _Mori no oku de,_ _u_ _mareta kaze ga,_ _h_ _arappa ni hitori datsu nire no ki. Fuwari,_ _k_ _asume,_ _y_ _atte kita,_ _a_ _re wa kaze no toori michi..._ 」

There were weirder things to end an evening, than listening to an Elder Lich reconstruct an old Studio Ghibli song from memory. Sycorax knew they existed.

* * *

“ _Dum-dum-dum dum, hum-hum-hu-hu-hum. Dum-du-_ _di-_ _dum, dum-du-di-dum._ ”

“Momonga-san?” Narberal enquired, as the pair of newly-minted orichalcum-class Adventurers strode down the main street of E-Rantel a few days later.

“That is a nice song, that it is!” The giant Djungarian hamster the Momonga disguised in dark armour murmured. “This king requests its name, my Master.”

“Ah, yes. It is named 'The Merry-Go-Round of Life'. It was composed as the soundtrack of an old film, _Howl's Moving Castle_.”

“Soundtrack? Film?”

“Ah...” Momonga paused at Nabe's questions. “It is a medium combining moving images and sounds together to tell a narrative.”

“Then it is like 「Crystal Mirror」?”

“「Crystal Mirror」would be a real-time projection, Nabe. I am talking about the permanent recording of sounds, and images.”

“Then is it not a bard's performance as well?” Nabe reasoned. “What makes them different?”

“A bard can screw up his performances. A recording cannot deviate.” Momonga replied. “It combines the storytelling power of music and plays with the mechanics of machines, so as to tell a story consistently and repeatedly, without there being any lost material. Then, there is also the fact that it appeals to the masses, so anyone with disposable income can view it. It differentiates not between classes, and it can be easily distributed. As a good, its price elasticity of supply cannot be underestimated!”

Then Momonga was saved from elaborating further when they reached the Adventurer's Guild of E-Rantel.

“Ah, Momonga-sama!” The receptionist recognised them. “There's a letter for you!”

“A letter?” Nabe echoed as Momonga received the thick folded paper. “What is this material, M- Momonga-san...?”

“This is paper, a writing material made of plant fibres,” Momonga examined the yellowed, weather paper, noting the heavy stock and deciding to order a ream of it for his own use. The text upon its front was printed in emerald ink: _To Momonga, care of Adventurer's Guild of E-Rantel, Kingdom of Re-Estize._

He turned it around to examine the wax seal that held it shut. The crest stamped into the green wax was a shield, bearing a wavy line separating two stars at the top and the bottom. The bottom bore a familiar Latin motto:  _Sic Parvis Magna_.

“Greatness from small beginnings.” Momonga shook his head at the memory of Sycorax's first raid as a pirate in the wake of her tenth and final failure of entering Ainz Ooal Gown. She had created her guild directly after.

Hostis Humani Generis could be _strange_ , but they had never persecuted Ainz Ooal Gown. In fact, the two guilds had stayed out of each other's business, mainly due to friendly relations but because as a guild with thirty-seven members, Hostis Humani Generis was considered a mid-tier guild due to its surprising lack of members. Momonga just thought that they couldn't keep up with the infamous exploits of the maverick Pirate.

The wax seal broke open under his ministrations, and he extracted a smaller envelope, empty, along with a folded letter. Unfolding it, Momonga could almost weep at the tracings of Hiragana, Kanji and Katakana on the surface, made with quick pen-strokes rather than the steady scratch of quills which he was subject to and spiralling from the top to the bottom of the page vertically.

__~`*'~_ _

_Dear Suzuki Satoru-san,_

_It's freezing up north here. I don't know if it's my new reptilian constitution, but the Fleet is knitting sweaters while Caliban and I are in Re-Ulovale. Is it warmer in the south? How are you?_

_Having considered the pros and cons of_ _「_ _Message_ _」_ _, I believe that striking up a physical correspondence would give us a closer and more secret communication. We are, to our knowledge, the only people proficient in written Japanese. To not use it would be a waste, right, Suzuki-san?_

_With that said, the Fomori fleet is short on paper! Though I am a Scribe and you know my talents full well, I was forced to cut up some of my larger sheets of paper. Should Nazarick be in possession of paper-making facilities, I would be grateful if some supplies could be sent over to be received in Re-Ulovale, where I met the messenger of this letter._

_By the way, Suzuki-san. The messenger, Bardo Lovely, is a provisions merchant who goes up to Re-Ulovale from E-Rantel for business regularly. Having sold to him a bottle of_ fleur du sel _made by the Fleet's artisans, I have also executed the mission to write up a contract template for him. I have refused my commission of one silver coin, to get him to take this letter to the E-Rantel Adventurer's Guild, so you appreciate the lengths we go for you, alright! As I write this, he is examining my writing-box, and enquiring about the steel-nib pens and travelling inkwell that I use in addition to the, and I quote, “marvellous contraption”. I trust in him as a prospective long-time partner in this sea enterprise, although he is unaware that I am not human._

_Enclosed are plans for the writing-box, which I believe would aid you somehow should you need to leverage the transport of another letter to me. Despite my preference to directly trust people, I do acknowledge the need for such leverage, though I do not like it myself. Even if he is not, Suzuki-san, I have you and your resourcefulness, and you have myself as an ally._

_As for my location, I have arranged for the proprietor of the Sia Heka Inn of Re-Ulovale's Septentrional to take my letters into his care for my retrieval. Because letters take days to cross the Kingdom, I look forward to hearing from you, and am occupying my time with setting up various businesses for the eventual seizure and ransoming of the coastal areas. As an experienced pirate, you need not worry for my sake, for once we have established a beachhead I will come to you very soon. I also need to raise my reputation to be courted by the surrounding nations anyway, should I require a letter of marque to be issued to me._

_So, please take care of yourself, for I dearly await your reply,_

_Sincerely,  
Kaiō Michiru._

_〇 月 ✕日_

__~`*'~_ _

Momonga's hand tightened, but he folded the precious paper away. The envelope would be used to write his reply, to be sent, and he would need a way to seal the wax with his personal crest, but this was worth it. The crushing reminder of his loneliness was assuaged, for now, that there was someone waiting for him.

Nabe's eyes narrowed as the letter vanished from sight. “Who was it, Momonga-san?”

“It was... a friend.” Momonga quietly replied.

Nabe started dreading the next 「Message」to Albedo for some unknown reason...


	7. VI: Becalmed

_~`*'~_

_〇 月 ✕日_

_Dear Kaiō Michiru-san,_

_Thank you very much for your letter. This is a good idea, using this to practice our written Japanese skills! Though, I think the NPCs might be able to read Japanese as well... I suppose that is fine too? Though I don't really get the point of communicating via letters when we have_ _「_ _Message_ _」_ _already, but I feel that I find myself thinking more when I write letters. It is very soothing._

_The Great Tomb of Nazarick is next to a certain village, Carne Village. It is next to the Great Forest of Tob, and by the Great Lake. The lake might be deep enough for you to set up another ship there... I only mean it in the best of intentions!_

_And, I have made good relations with them before becoming an Adventurer, Momonga. I have disguised myself as a warrior, and taken one of the Pleiades Six Stars, Narberal Gamma, as Nabe, the Magic Caster. We ran into certain complications against a Necromancer named Khajiit, and an assassin called Clementine. They are no more. I do not think I regret killing them, since the alternative would be the city of E-Rantel turned into Undead._

_I am extremely worried about my lack of regret, amongst other things. My body regulates all extreme emotions, and I can neither eat nor drink. Your letter, amongst other things, have given me concrete proof that I am not alone._

_I am sending two of my NPCs... **subordinates** to the Kingdom's capital, Re-Estize, to meet you and your crew. I hope that you will receive this letter in a timely manner._

_Sincerely,_

_Satoru Suzuki._

_~`*'~_

* * *

Though the ships had been anchored and close to land, most of the Fleet still chose their hammocks and shared quarters aboard. Aside from the Nereids, who generally enjoyed sleeping under the stars, and the Fishmen officers – who generally enjoyed the company of Nereus' fifty daughter-subordinates – most slaved away or robotically continued the multiple necessities of life aboard any ship, let alone a pirate one. Still, some officers had to keep watch aboard, and the Sixth Division had to feed everyone regardless of where their chosen sleeping quarters were.

Thankfully most of the fleet were undead or Golems, was Cutty Sark's uncharitable thought one morning as he considered the pantry's stock, frozen and cooled for transport in the icy cold pantry of the enchanted glacial ship. Otherwise, there would be a reckoning for overworking a Slime.

Unlike the others commanders, Cutty had been created before the Fleet had been founded, serving as the on-base cook for Thousand Splendid Suns-sama on his base. He had been present to witness the creation of One Piece, and then saw its ability as Sycorax used its magic to create the fleet's first flagship in the waters of Mimisbrunnr, the  _Bourreau des Cœurs_. Before the wonders of a pantry composed of ice – the only cold spot in a fleet of ships whose material temperatures were otherwise regulated with magic – Cutty had been granted the knowledge of weevils in ship's biscuit and other assorted horrors about food preservation at sea by his creator. Needless to say, the Fomori Fleet was a welcome change.

The bell rung four times, two pairs for the middle of the morning watch, and snapped him from his reverie.

Cutty sighed as he slid into the galley of the fleet's larder and kitchen, the galleon of ice  _Totara_. It was laid out longitudinally, with overhead cabinets and stoves with iron doors and a wide walkway for the cooks on either side and still have space for the stewards. The steel stoves had a roaring fire merrily contained in its stomach of blackened cast iron, and before its yawning maw was crouched the cabin boy, Healy.

Cutty Sark hissed at the fire Mephit to inspect it. “More heat. Git yer brothers here 'fore I send you all to be powder monkeys on the  _Spruce_.”

Healy stuck his tongue out, keeping it back only as Cutty spat at him. Then it was a race to flush Cutty's acidic spit with the emergency bucket before it ate into the galley floor, and Healy floated off to get a few air Mephits to bellow the fire with barely a smack.

Looking at the list he had left on the galley counter, Cutty could only guess that Nereus had been _very_ friendly with the village while the Fleet Admiral was gone. The leader of the Fleet's frogmen division had been barred from paying out any currency, so Cutty guessed that he had struck a bargain or saved the village from being massacred, if the sheer volume of livestock currently on the island was any indication.

Cows: dairy products were good, and so was beef and possible leather products. The Seventh Division had better let him keep the bones.

Pigs: leather, bristles, pig's head... Cutty could imagine the Admiral's face at the thought.

Sheep: wool, milk, more leather.

Chickens... Cutty made a note to keep roosters away from the fleet's Basilisks, and to keep the cackle fruits from the hens on a regularly fertilising schedule, and to get some crushed shell...

“Where are we keeping this stuff?” Cutty looked hard at the list, and then sighed as the round pot's contents started boiling with the sweet aroma of a thick curry. “Oh... today is curry. Curry...”

“We're back, Cookie,” Healy called behind him, as the fires of the stove roared and the  _Totara_ groaned with the sudden temperature increase. “What's wrong? I don't think an Elder Black Ooze can lose all his colour...”

“There's no ingredients in this perfect golden curry at all!” Cutty flailed in panic. “Who's the cook on duty?!”

“Ah... Drake... Cookie, calm down...”

The next yell caused a grey-scaled Dragonoid lying on the weather deck to sit up. “Ah...”

“Drake, you bastard!” Cutty stormed out of the galley, swinging to land on the weather deck with a splat in his blackened, oily fury. “How dare you skimp on ingredients today?! And why aren't you watching the Treasure Ship?!”

“Today is just the ratings, isn't it, Cutty?” The Dragonoid was laid out in his fully draconic form, lifting one closed eyelid to glare back with an amber eye, pupil slitted. “It's fine. You'll make it up at dinner anyway. As for the ship, Mary and Celeste are watching it.”

“That's not the point!” Cutty protested. “The Admiral is returning today!”

That news caused the Dragonoid to sit up. “Sycorax-sama will be eating the ratings' curry? You know, you could tell a better lie.”

“I cook for bulk, Drake.” Cutty pointed out. “Sycorax-sama eats the same as any rating. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“Do the other officers know that you're feeding the last Admiral the same crap you give to the ratings?”

“My cooking is not crap! At least, that golden curry with ingredients won't qualify as crap!” Cutty was back to panicking. “C- Caliban sends messages back... and Sycorax-sama keeps talking about salmon and prawns and fresh seafood with curry... and if we don't have those... where did you put the mutton?!”

“...Ah.” Drake's flat reply said it all, especially since the dragon's breath was flavoured with the spice of curry.

“ _Fix this_.”

He transformed, grey scales sliding into human skin, and size shrinking until he stood at one-ninety centimetres; as the tallest of the Fleet's supply corps, the Fleet purser, Drake, was intimidating whether as a human or as a dragon. “We are so dead. She's going to gut us.”

“Sycorax-sama will gut you,” corrected the Elder Black Ooze. “I will survive a gutting.”

“No, the Pirate class has an ability that ignores an opponent's defences, 「Rider on the Storm」.” Drake disagreed. “She'll use that first. _Then_ she'll gut us.”

“Enough about the gutting!” Cutty Sark started to flail again, which would be funny if not for the pure panic being communicated with every drop. “What should we do? I mean-”

He stopped as a ringing began to echo in his mind, signalling an incoming 「Message」. “Who can it be?「Cutty Sark, speaking.」.”

“「Yo, Cutty. Caliban here. The Admiral wants the captain's gigs down to the harbour. We got shopping to transport.」”

The Elder Black Ooze slumped onto the deck. “「How many should I send along?」”

“「The  _Habu_ ,  _Mamushi_ , and  _Copperhead_. Also, if we have more salt or other goods to spare, bring that too. The salt they sell here is prohibitively expensive.」”

“「Huh... I'm sorry, we can't spare any salt to sell, and our other goods are also reserved. How is the Admiral?」”

Inside a two-bed suite of the Sia Heka Inn, Caliban leant back to observe the figure on the bed he was not seated upon. “「We set up a reading and writing business between the markets. There is a business for the simplest of tasks.」”

“「Do they know that they're letting a pirate read their correspondence?」”

“「In this case, Sycorax-sama is acting as a Scribe. You would not believe the numbers of illiterate people here. It would have been a waste of each other's time if Sycorax-sama did not have the Merchant's Guild, the Brewers, and the Drapers of Re-Ulovale dancing attendance upon her.」”

“「What is she selling?」”

“「A voyage. She's offering to run goods by sea from Re-Ulovale to the Baharuth Empire. Apparently the seas are closed to humans a certain distance from the coast. Bring our prisoner along with the captain's gigs. We need to return him to bring our proposal to the Emperor.」”

“「So... will this shopping trip be related to another trip?」”

“「Hell if I know. Can we settle the provisions first?」”

“「Yeah, I got it. The  _Habu_ ,  _Mamushi_ and  _Copperhead_  will be in by noon.」”

The Message terminated, and Cutty Sark clicked his tongue to summon a Water Sprite. “Oi! Run up a message to Nagato. _Habu, Mamushi,_  and  _Copperhead_  are to be sent out to Re-Ulovale Harbour to retrieve the Admiral's purchases. Bring the prisoner along as well.”

Rising from the Fleet's left flank, a Water Sprite saluted, before shooting off towards the flagship. Cutty sighed, before ordering Healy to drag out a leg of mutton for chopping. The Admiral was returning, and it was going to be business as usual until her return and the resulting party they would have.

* * *

“I have an announcement to make.” Momonga stated in the throne room of Nazarick. “Sycorax-san is present in this world, with her guild.”

The collective blank look he got in reply made him squirm internally. If one paid attention, they would have seen his aura flicker as his emotions were regulated.

“Sycorax... ah, the regular guest of Touch Me-sama during the early days.” The Butler of Steel, Sebas Tien, was the first to recall. “She was not placed amongst the forty-one Supreme Beings, and then she stopped visiting Nazarick save for a few occasions.”

“Sycorax-sama?” Albedo exclaimed in shock. “Momonga-sama, we have never heard of such a thing- _being_.”

“Sycorax-san created her own cabal.” Momonga replied, still role-playing the imperious overlord of death. “She was not discouraged by Touch Me's rejections, or the inability to gain a consensus to be admitted into Ainz Ooal Gown. She is now leading Hostis Humani Generis, as the Admiral of her own Fomori Fleet. It is currently placed in the North Sea far across the Kingdom.”

“I see.” Demiurge noted. “A fleet of ships would not be on the same terrain as the Great Tomb. Momonga-sama's assessment is right. As expected of the Supreme Beings.”

Momonga tried not to feel embarrassed. “Erm... anyway, we have been communicating via 「Message」. She has also sent a letter to my Adventurer persona via a provisions merchant, Bardo Lovely, who is based in E-Rantel. I have written my reply and sent it via the same merchant, and informed her of my plans. Sebas.”

“Yes, Momonga-sama.” spoke the Butler of Steel.

“Solution and yourself will be headed towards the Kingdom's capital, Re-Estize.” Momonga replied. “I have informed Sycorax-san of this arrangement, and bade her to send an envoy to establish contact. Between us, we can most likely find my comrades. So, using your cover identities, you will meet with the representatives of the Fomori Fleet.”

“Yes! By your will.” Sebas nodded and stepped back, having received his orders.

“Aura.”

“Yes!” The dark elf in a white suit spoke up.

“You said that there is a great lake in the forest?”

“Yes, Momonga-sama!”

“It must be enough to hold a galleon ship at least, then?”

“That... would be difficult.” Aura paused. “Boats tend to be sunk by the monsters in the lake. I- If this Sycorax is too weak-”

“Oh? That is rude to her, Aura.” Momonga interrupted. “I am not worried about that. Sycorax-san is a better fighter than myself.”

“A- A better fighter than Momonga-sama?!” Albedo spoke up in disbelief.

There was a vent of cold air. “Momonga-sama. is. Too. Humble.”

“No, that is the truth.” Momonga demurred, recalling when the Jolly Roger of a breaking heart had first been raised, creating a terror that, at its heights and in spite of its comparative lack of members, had clawed its way up to Rank 4 out of more than eight hundred in YGGDRASIL history. _Hostis Humani Generis_ _had been_ _one of the top percentage of YGGDRASIL_ _players_ _, and its first and only Guildmaster was rejected by Ainz Ooal Gown._ _Was this what Touch Me-san was afraid of?_ _Or was it because of the Fleet's reputation after_ _that campaign against the Five Rainbow Buddhas_ _?_

“If it is a question of reliability, Akemi-san, Yamaiko-san's sister, served under Sycorax-san. She is a powerful ally, thus it is imperative that we ally with Hostis Humani Generis.” decreed Momonga. “Sycorax-san can... no, Sycorax-san would probably sail across the horizon given half a chance. We must keep her attention here. Is that clear?” _A_ _nd_ _let's do that_ _before I get shanghaied onto her ship and it sails far away from Nazarick..._

“Yes!” proclaimed the Guardians.

“Then, that will be all for now. Dismissed.” Momonga left the room first, after a homunculus maid had delivered a reminder by his order about visiting town.

None of the Guardians moved from their positions.

Demiurge, uncharacteristically, was the first to speak up. “To think that there is such a being outside of the Supreme Beings present...”

“AHHHH!! Why did that bitch have to appear?!” Albedo growled, her ladylike demeanour fading under the heavy air of malice she currently carried. “She must have addled Momonga-sama in some fashion!”

Cocytus vented some more air. “But. We. Have. Momonga-sama's. Assurance. of. Her. Friendliness. Towards. Momonga-sama. Touch Me-sama. And. Yamaiko-sama.”

“I...” One of the twin guardians of the sixth floor of the Great Tomb, Mare Bello Fiore, piped up. “That is, Bukubukuchagama-sama has mentioned that name once or twice. Usually like this: 'that crazy Sycorax punched Ulbert-san!' Quote for quote...”

“I have heard of that particular incident.” Shalltear Bloodfallen agreed. “According to Shijuuten Suzaku-sama, Ulbert Alain Odle-sama made an inappropriate remark towards a certain person called Titania, and was then punched for it. This act was considered merciful by the rest of the Supreme Beings.”

“Although the Supreme Beings collectively declared so, I do not feel so well about her possible hostility to my creator.” Demiurge commented, correcting the grey pince-nez placed upon his face. “It makes me wonder exactly what kind of existence short of a World-class Enemy could command such a presence.”

* * *

Sycorax pondered upon the concept of the Adventurer's Guild and its dark leanings, especially since she had somehow chosen to stay in a Worker-dominated inn. “It is strange, Caliban, to be a Worker. Or is it to be expected? That people would look to regulate the use of power when it seeks to endanger society.”

“Before that,” answered Caliban, “can you not drool on the grill, Admiral? It won;t roast faster because you stare at it.”

The pair of them were by the roadside. Because Sycorax really liked food and the eating of it, Caliban not only had Chef classes, but also a portable grill discreetly powered with the flames of Hell. Said fires were curing a large ham at the moment, set at the crossroads of the Septentrional and Oriental districts and just at the left side of the harbour mouth.

 _Crossroads_ _Roast_ was written on a wooden board before the grill. After it was: ' _Worth selling your soul for!_ '

They were drawing stares, and more than once Sycorax had spotted people making gestures with furtive looks towards the skies. The sailors that passed by blinked, looked about before laughing at the joke, and bought a few sticks of meat here and there. Obviously their little display had proven that there were no laws about hawking goods in the city, though more than once they had had to divert carriages passing too close for anyone's comfort. And by divert...

“Are they all in heat or something?” Sycorax commented as another carriage turned a corner, spoked wheels cracking as it tore through hard-packed ground that was not covered in asphalt – assuming that such a thing existed. “Or is it road rage?”

“Who knows-” Caliban stopped talking as a sharp cry echoed.

Both of them turned their heads to watch the carriage about to bear down on a mousy-looking girl like some officious lumbering bear. Sailors were yelling, women were yelling, and the child was stuck frozen in terror as the horses were about to trample down with the force of a coach behind them. The child crouched down, eyes closed and waiting... waiting...

Tansy peeked, opening her eyes, and then staring in disbelief at the two horses, each diverted to one side by one arm, and the lone green eye boring down on her.

“Are you alright?”

“Y- Yes! T- Thank you very much, miss!” Tansy stuttered, getting up to her feet.

“Oi, what are you doing?!” demanded the coach-driver. “My horses!”

Sycorax stared at him. “I saved a child from getting run over with your reckless driving. I should be asking, what are _you_ doing?”

“This is Marquis Raeven's coach!”

“And what about it?” Sycorax posed.

The question caused him to flail. “T- This!”

“What is going on, Lockmyer?” The door of the coach creaked open as a tall, thin man with slicked-back blond hair stepped out. Sycorax immediately thought of her Naga form, and how this man, with his pale-white skin and narrow blue eyes, looked more like a snake than herself, who was half-snake. A doublet of high-quality fur, woven with golden threads clothed his person, and Sycorax could spot the tell-tale sparkle of mineral gemstones sewn into the linings.

“Marquis Raeven!” the driver, Lockmyer, started.

The Marquis looked down, his eyes flickering from the girl to the horse standing by the roadside, its restraints and reins torn free. “I told you to slow down in the city, Lockmyer.”

“Sir, you said that meeting Warrior-Captain Stronoff was of utmost urgency-”

“But not at the cost of the young lady's life,” interjected the Marquis smoothly, glancing down at the girl. “My apologies.”

“Er, er-” Tansy flailed at being in the presence of high nobility. “I'm sorry! I'll just... go now...”

Elias Brandt Dale Raeven ignored Tansy's departure, occupied with staring at the horses and the bent yoke. “My reins and carriage has been ruined. How do you intend to compensate me- where did they go?”

Lockmyer blinked slowly, turning his head to find that, indeed, the white-haired one-eyed woman and a roadside hawker's stall had gone missing in the interim. “I- I didn't notice-”

“I suppose even an Orichalcum-rank has limits...” A sigh sounded. “Enough, Lockmyer. We must meet the Warrior Captain with all haste.”

“Yes.”

The door closed.

Situated in the undercarriage, Sycorax forbore to sigh until the carriage wheels were already turning.

“Admiral,” Caliban wheezed next to her, “I believe this to be insane.”

“Thank goodness for that, because if I weren't this would never work.” Sycorax wiggled as the carriage made another turn. “I translated the message. The funny symbol means 'king' or 'emperor', and wool of the sea is exactly what it is, so the full message is: ' _Freak storm confirmed. Wreck found off coast, two klicks from Re-Ulovale. Tell immediately to Emperor. Will dredge it up to recover wool of sea quick._ '”

“Wool of the sea?” Caliban pondered.

“Possibly sea silk, if it's related to the world we came from.” Sycorax licked her lips. “Woven from the byssus of pen shells. It's also referred to as the 'golden fleece'.”

“Oh.” Caliban relaxed slightly.

“The most expensive fabric in the ancient world, and someone telling an Emperor about it...” Sycorax thought aloud. “What happened to our prisoner, by the way?”

“Ah, he's still alive. Relatively well.” Caliban scratched his nose gingerly, clinging onto the bottom of the carriage. “Singing like a... well, we got plenty of intelligence. Apparently, weather control is regarded as a legendary skill, and being Level 100 is far above their concept of legendary. It would not be strange to call our level godlike.”

“Hmm... that is well. Now, the best thing to do, would be to establish friendly relations,” Sycorax pondered. “That includes using trade networks... the best way would be to seize the trade networks and exact a toll, but all the trade is coastal or overland. In short... we need to raise our reputation by any means necessary. Even if we have to use that wool of the sea...”

The carriage creaked to a stop, and Sycorax waited as the doors opened and the man stepped out. The white of his breeches was accompanied soon by the livery of a footman and the worn leggings of the coach-driver, Lockmyer. The salty breeze that floated in came with the clash of swords and the violent yells that signalled violence.

“What happened? Lockmyer?”

“Yes!” The leggings disappeared in a flash of black, one Sycorax identified as 「Sneak」.

“Thieves...” Sycorax dropped her hold on the bottom of the carriage, sliding out carefully with her increased snake-like flexibility. She stuck her finger in a crooking motion down, and watched Caliban crawl out as well.

They were in the Septentrional District, the jetty having been fenced off for some unknown reason as she crept around the back of the coach. Sycorax soon spotted the reason for the closed iron gates of the wharf, as a Fishman jumped over one knight to stab at another.

Unlike their Mermen brethren, Fishmen were fully scaly creatures of a sort, possessed of the features of both man and fish but still in possession of four limbs, though in a shade of blue-grey not found in normal humans. They were also definitely more intimidating in bony armour, hacking and slashing at knights with unprecedented strength that shattered the wooden jetty into a patchwork barely held together.

“Is she not here?” the largest of them hollered. “Captain Homard said she was here!”

“Captain Homard's brethren.” Sycorax confirmed. “The Agrand Council Alliance.”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” a dark-haired knight jumped in. “「Sixfold Slash of Light」"

One hit produced six flashes, which hit six Fishmen congregating onto him. They were cleaved into halves, spreading their ichor about the shattered wood and stone underneath them.

“That Martial Art...” the head Fishman leered, his wide lips parting to show sharp teeth curving into his mouth under his tiny, non-existent nose. “Your reputation precedes you in Agrand, Gazef Stronoff.”

“Agrand Council Alliance?” The knight demanded, sword at the ready as men in chain mail struggled for their own arms.

“Of course. Those whom the humans label as Heroes are renowned... usually for killing our brethren.” The Fishman leered, hefting a sword with a wickedly serrated edge. “Killing you would be the victory of the Fishman tribe!「Haste」!”

Sycorax watched as they clashed, putting a hand onto her head and starting when it touched her scalp. She peered around, reaching down to pick up her black broad-brimmed hat and setting it firmly onto her head, securing its strap.

Beside her, Caliban was watching the two of them fight beyond the chained boundary of the wharf. “It looks like they haven't found the Fleet's location yet,” Caliban commented.

“Are they idiots?” Sycorax pondered as she glanced about, watching a few fishermen pulling up to shore stop and stare at the intense clash of swords. “I thought they would approach the Fleet since no one could miss it from underwater.”

As she watched, the fisherman yelped as the split of wood resounded and all onboard fell into the sea. With the rim of the next crashing wave, she saw the fisherman struggling in the cup-studded rubbery embrace of some giant cephalopod, perhaps.

“Well,” said the Fleet Admiral of the Fomori, “theybrought a terrible beastie along. Was I so popular during my time in YGGDRASIL?”

“Yes, you were.” Caliban flatly replied. “The Admiralty fought the Five Rainbow Buddhas and won.”

“Ah, right. I remember that~” Sycorax sighed to herself. “That was terrible. _Seriou_ _sly_ terrible. The 「Five Elements Overcoming」just barely made up for it.”

The fisherman was then pulled under the waves amidst cries of shock and horror as more humans scrambled out of the waters, victims of wreckage from the terrible beastie under the surface.

“You don't have time to be distracted, Gazef Stronoff!” the Fishman was yelling as the serrated sword slashed down onto steel. The sword resembled a black pole with six blades, each shaped like a saw itself, leading onto a simple handle wrapped in shark skin. “I, Pristiophorus Cirratus, will kill you, with this legendary weapon of the Fishman tribe's strongest, the Kiribachi!”

Sycorax tilted her head. “I think I've heard of that name before...”

She ignored the swing that nearly cleaved the wharf were it not for Gazef standing between the wharf and the sword. Metal rang out, even as Gazef repositioned himself to stab through the Fishman.

“「Full Throttle」「Invulnerable Fortress」「Focus Fighting Power」”

The 「Full Throttle」 technique allowed the user to temporarily speed up his mental state, increasing the speed of his attacks. Continuous usage accumulated a huge amount of mental fatigue, and thus Gazef was only deploying it now, in preparation of 「Sixfold Slash of Light」.

Fishmen were demi-humans, in the same way that Dragons were the greatest of monsters. That might be a slightly unfair comparison, but when combining intelligence far above humans and the strength of monsters of the deep, two species had dominated the seas: Mermen and Fishmen. His men had fallen, or were still valiantly holding back the invasive force, and they would certainly die if Gazef did nothing.

Warriors like Gazef could use up to six different martial arts skills during combat. Including a hidden move, he could use up to seven under battle conditions. Currently, he was using 「Full Throttle」,「Invulnerable Fortress」, and「Focus Fighting Power」with his martial arts skills to hit only one target perfectly.

The reason he didn’t activate his limit of seven different skills was that the amount of concentration required would be too great to use 「Sixfold Slash of Light」, which required three times as much concentration even for Gazef, who had only two different finishing moves – one which required him to use up all his energy, and another one that used up four times as much concentration. The burden on his body was immense, but if he didn’t use it, there would be no way out of this.

“「Sixfold Slash of Light」!”

He took them on, movements like the torrents crashing upon a boulder to slash through the Fishman. Dark red blood stained the wharf, though only three slashes made it before one scaly hand clamped down upon Gazef's sword. With a grin, Pristiophorus raised the sword to slash down and end the kingdom's strongest warrior, and would have cleaved Gazef in half if the Warrior-Captain had not let go of his sword. Under the wharf, a torrent proceeded to explode and shatter another beam of wood underfoot.

“Ah. I remember now. So... who left the Kiribachi in my path?”

The blood continued to flow, but Fishman and human turned their heads to watch her walk down the ruined wharf. Silence ruled, as overhead the sun rapidly reached its zenith and the tide arose in correspondence to her arrival.

“Kiribachi.” Spoke the woman, whose broad-brimmed hat hid her features. “A Legacy-class sword, granted the 「Vibration」ability, thirty-percent chance of inflicting Water-elemental damage.”

Pristiophorus discarded the other sword into the broken wood. It bounced off and fell into the sea. “You're rather well-informed, miss.”

“I hope so. We helped create that weapon, after all.” One hand tugged onto the brim of her hat. “The fact that it is here, means that our friends must be here too, in some fashion. So, I want to know exactly  _how_  you got that weapon.”

“Who are you?” the Fishman snapped.

“I am Sycorax.” A grin graced her expression. “A pirate.”

“A pirate?!” The giggle erupted from his thick lips. “A human professing to be part of the seas? But... Captain Homard said, that witch also professed herself a pirate.”

“Then we have a common acquaintance.” The hat was taken off, revealing white hair bound up with a single silver hairpin with silver trails hanging off of its end. The black eye-patch edged in silver over her left eye glimmered slightly before the sun was obscured by a passing cloud.

“Hair white as the foam of the sea... you must be the Sea Witch.” Pristiophorus commented. “We came here with a grand welcome. We even brought a Kraken.”

“Kraken?” Gazef looked behind in alarm.

“Oh, you mean that terrible beastie.” Sycorax commented airily. “He's over there.”

“Over there?” Pristiophorus peered to where she pointed, at the coast where a group of humans were crouching under a giant rock that had not been there before. “I don't see it. There are only human trash over there.”

“If it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye.” Sycorax replied. “If not, be it his that finds it.”

Gazef squinted at the giant rock. It surely had not been there before, and the wharves moved large rocks out of the way save for the wave-breakers along the coast. The giant rock had definitely _not_ been there earlier, he thought as he stepped forward to peer closely. In fact, Gazef could now see, as the passing cloud that obscured the sun was blown away, the roundness of its suction cups in graceful arches upon which the giant boulder stood.

It was not a boulder originally, he realised. It was a statue; the Kraken had been turned into stone.

Back straightening, Gazef whirled around to stare as Sycorax tucked her eye-patch back down and walked towards the statue where Pristiophorus had been standing. With a tug, Kiribachi fell into her hands, its serrated edge glimmering as she held it up to the light.

“S- Stone... they have turned into stone.” Gazef swallowed, raising his sword slowly. With his buffs, he could reach her fast and then-

“Gazef Stronoff. Are we to fight this day?” She was still examining the weapon, Kiribachi, unwrapping the handle of its trappings of silk and skin with her slender fingers and sharp nails. “Pick a fight with me, and I will shorten your lifespan.”

Gazef pondered. His sword lowered back to his side.

“Then that's fine.” Sycorax read the script on the hilt cover that she had unwrapped. “It's mine. If Kiribachi is here, then Kirisame must be here as well.”

“Captain!” One of his lieutenants, having gotten up, dashed forward. “I'll hold her back! Please find reinforcements!”

“No, Rune.” Gazef raised a hand, his gauntleted fingers and thumb pointing up. “She is here for her own property.”

“...eh?”

Easily hefting the Cutting Plectrum sword, Sycorax started to walk away.

“Though, the attempted theft of my wallet leads me to other conclusions.”

Sycorax stopped walking, doing a double-take. Her lone eye went wide, and then she pondered to herself before nodding decisively... and running away.

“Wait! Stop!” Gazef started to run after her. “I have questions for you!”

“Like I'll stop to answer them!” Sycorax fired back, vaulting over the Marquis' carriage as she produced from her pocket a stack of flashcards hanging on a single binder, ripping one card from itto toss down. “「Isaz」!”

A patch of ice formed right where Gazef was about to step, sending the Kingdom's strongest warrior crashing into the carriage. Sycorax had already leapt off and was running down, Kiribachi swinging behind her. The Marquis was, somehow inexplicably, standing in her way with a frozen look on his face.

“What's going on-”

Caliban barrelled over him in a mad dash to follow Sycorax, his jacket flapping out behind him. “Admiral, the gigs are on their way. What should we do?”

Sycorax skidded to a stop. “In that case... I'll turn them all into stone! One-two-!”

“ _I want to thank you!_ ” Gazef shouted before she could lift her eye-patch.

Sycorax stopped. She blinked for a few moments, staring at the knights who had also stopped by their captain's lead, and were currently panting.

“...eh?”

“For stopping the Fishmen, thank you very much!” Gazef firmly stated. “Even if it was not for any other reason than your own, thank you very much. I won't pursue you for the t- _attempted_ theft, Sycorax-dono as compensation.”

Caliban turned to her. “You gave your name to him?”

“A crew's livelihood depends on the reputation of its captain,” Sycorax argued, relaxing now that nobody was chasing her. “The bigger, the better. And, what's to say that you haven't compensated me, Gazef Stronoff?”

Gazef looked at her blankly. “Excuse me?”

Not looking him in the eye, Sycorax drew a money-bag out of her pocket. It looked exactly like the one she had stolen three days ago. Gazef stared at it dangling in her hand, and then his hand moved towards an empty spot on his belt. His soldiers stared from the bag to their captain and back and forth, each repetition growing even more pronounced until Sycorax thought they were going to sprain their necks.

“Please leave a gold coin,” Gazef finally relented. “I must reward my men for this fight.”

He flailed, though, when the bag hit his chest plate and bounced onto the ground.

“The moment I think I understand you, you surprise me.” Sycorax airily declared, having tossed the bag back. “You're a good person, Gazef-san! I like you!”

Behind him, one of the armoured soldiers leant forward. “Erm, Lieutenant... what is the Captain doing?”

“He's making relations with the one who defeated the Fishmen,” the Lieutenant hissed back.

“As expected of our Captain!” the soldier gasped in awe.

“Then, will you join us for the midday meal, Sycorax-dono?” Gazef offered, having not heard his subordinates' conversation. “Of course, we will have to find a healer at the temples first.”

Sycorax pondered on the topic. “I'm expecting someone at the harbour, but I can join your men and yourself. I can provide healing for your company, but you have to provide lunch for my companion and myself as recompense.”

“That price is cheap.” Gazef inclined his head.

“We have an accord, then.” Sycorax considered as she followed the Warrior-Captain back to the ruined wharf. A few more men were assembled, pulling up injured soldiers or laying them side-by-side. Most stopped what they were doing to salute the Warrior-Captain, or to nod in greeting. All of them stared at her.

“Make some space,” Sycorax knelt down to the first in line, pulling at one lip before she lifted a hand to slap down on his chest plate. There was a horrible cracking sound, and the Lieutenant would have jumped in protest if the man had not started from his coma-like state to cough up seawater.

“Drag him out.” Sycorax ordered. “Next.”

“Men.” Gazef relayed the command, still with a worried frown on his face. “Drag him out, and let Sycorax-dono work on the others.”

A few men in armour clanked as they lifted the coughing soldier out of the way and Sycorax advanced onto the next soldier, who bore a nasty slash across his chest that had broken his chest-plate clean through.

“He won't survive.” Sycorax lifted her head. “It went straight to the lungs.”

“Are you sure you cannot do anything for Glaive?” Gazef asked, kneeling down.

“It'll take more than lunch.” Sycorax analysed the wound and peered into the boy's eyes. “His fate is bad. This cannot be paid with money. His fate is almost certain. He will owe his life to me if I use magic to heal him.”

Gazef hesitated. “...are you sure that nothing else can be done?”

“We can seal the bleeding, but that treatment is less absolute. It will depend upon his will to live.”

A short, sharp nod, piercing eyes flashing as Gazef lowered himself to grab the soldier's hand. “Do it.”

“Caliban.”

The dark-haired Demon in disguise knelt down as Sycorax got up. “Cauterise the wound?”

“Of course. Use「St Hubert's Key」.”

“Understood.” A narrow tongue of blue flame appeared on the tip of his hand, and then Caliban set to work. Gazef did not look away, even as the stench of burning flesh caused a few soldiers to retch.

Sycorax ignored the burning and the screams of pain, glancing down to attend to the next few soldiers. It mainly involved sprinkling potions on wounds and a few more punches to the chests, where a few men had ended up swallowing seawater. Except for the last case...

“Poor thing,” Sycorax mentally calculated the necessary HP gain, pouring her last low-level potion onto the wound and examining the growth of new bone. “Gazef-san, this one might have to leave the company.”

The Warrior-Captain sighed, getting up to walk to them and look at the stump of the young man's arm with a stricken expression. “Thank you very much. I am sure you did what you can.”

“No.” Sycorax shook her head. “The price to restore his arm will be ten gold or an equivalent value.”

The soldier sat up. “T- That- That's far more than I have! You're an Adventurer, are you not?”

“I just arrived in the Kingdom. In your standards, I am not. But, that is irrelevant, since your arm's fate rests in my hands.” Sycorax flatly replied. “Will someone pay for you?”

“I have the money.” Gazef growled. “Heal him.”

“W- Warrior Captain!” the young man protested. “This is-”

“Do not worry, Gar. As long as you have arms and legs, we will work something out.” Gazef looked at Sycorax next. “Well?”

“Gold is nice, but I will accept an equivalent value.” Sycorax's eye twinkled as she tore a card out from her stack. “Lunch and ten gold coins' worth of information. 「Gēbo」.”

There was no flash of light, only that the young man fell back, his right clutching his other shoulder as the bones, muscles and blood began to grow back into an elbow, forearm, wrist, palm and fingers.

“And that's done. Now, I'm hungry.” Sycorax got up, yawning. “Where are we going?”

The young man and Gazef stared at the repaired arm in disbelief, and then blinked at the silhouette of her back as it walked away from them...

A lone green eye glared back at them. “I'm _hungry_.”

* * *

The eating area of the Alacer Arms were doing a rip-roaring trade, and it was mainly due to Gazef's money-bag and the woman who had polished off five plates, including a tureen of clam chowder. The man himself, and almost half his soldiers, were still staring in disbelief. “How...?”

“It's my penalty.” Sycorax did not look at any of them. “For using magic... this is delicious! Better than _some other things_ we have onboard...”

“I see.” Gazef relaxed. “If I remember, Sycorax-dono is a... pirate?”

“Yes.”

“You came to the Kingdom by the sea, am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“On a ship?”

“Yep.”

“The North Sea, which is not only filled with sea monsters and no land for lengths, but also the Merman Navy, whose tendency is to sink ships.” Gazef clarified. “What did you do for food?”

Sycorax considered. “...sometimes huge fish would jump out of the water trying to eat us, so we beat them up-”

“Please do not exaggerate, they're serious.” Caliban interrupted, still nursing a tankard of ale. “We just sailed in and we're restocking on rations.”

“Ah, that's a relief.” Gazef commented. “The pirates around this region are usually in with the Eight Fingers.”

“Eight... Fingers?” Sycorax asked.

“They're an underground criminal organisation based here.” Gazef related. “They traffic in drugs and slaves, and their influence is such that they practically dominate the underworld.”

“Boring.” Sycorax shrugged, having lost interest.

“So, Sycorax-dono, will you be staying here?” Gazef enquired politely.

“No. I'll be transporting merchant goods from Re-Ulovale to Venetus.” Sycorax gleefully related.

“Nix... you mean, the newest coastal settlement in the Baharuth Empire?”

“Precisely!” Sycorax nodded with a smile. “This place looks like it'll be fun!”

Gazef looked like he was going to retort, but then Caliban clicked his tongue. “The three boats are already here.”

“Is that so, Caliban?” Sycorax prepared to get up, pausing before checking in her jacket. “Thank you very much for the meal, Gazef-san. We must leave for the harbour to transport our provisions. There will be the rest of our debt to settle at a later date.”

“Ah, yes.” Gazef shook his head, having been disarmed slightly by the mead, the conversation and the sheer amazement at what had just happened. “How will I contact you?”

“This is a marker of our debt.” Sycorax slid over a card embossed with the black-and-white crest of Hostis Humani Generis. “As long as you hold the debt, you are protected by us.”

Gazef winced as she whirled around and left, picking up the heavy card-stock to study the emblem and the motto. He flipped it around; written upon it was  _Sycorax_ : _9 gold._ _No interest._

“Captain?” the Lieutenant, who had been silent so far, finally spoke up. “I don't think this is a wise decision. You could have paid her back.”

Gazef only frowned at the card, before carefully pocketing it. “Yes. I could have. It... I cannot help myself. I do not know why, but I wanted to see her again.”

He started, and then checked that his money-bag and valuables were present on his person. “Ah, it's all here-”

The door of the tavern crashed open. “Captain! The Fishman statues are gone!”

To the messenger's shock, the Lieutenant burst into hearty laughter as the Captain planted his face into the trestle table. “That has got to be the best pirate I've even seen!”

* * *

_ **Character Profile: Sycorax** _

_**The One-Eyed, Dreadfully Admired Serpentine Filibuster** _

**Guild: [Hostis Humani Generis] − Guildmaster**

**Demi-human Heteromorphic Race (Nagini Gorgon)**

**9 metres in length – 1.70 m off the ground and with legs. Unknown weight.**

**Job:**

  * **Fleet Admiral of the Fomori Fleet**

  * **Enemy of Humanity**

  * **Big Eater**




**Residence: Captain's Quarters, Ship _Queen of the Night_ , Fomori fleet flagship.**

**Sense of Justice: 250 (Chaotic Good)**

**Total Level: 100**

**Basic Traits:**

  * **Transformation Always has Missing Left Eye**

  * **Increased Food Consumption Penalty**

  * **Able to Swim**

  * **Not Afraid to Die**

  * **Will Protect Comrades with Spectacular Results, Usually to the Other Guy**

  * **The Plans Never Survive Contact**

  * **Will of the D**

  * **Weakness to Cold**

  * **Weakness to Lightning**

  * **Food Storage in Body**

  * **Immune to Poison**

  * **Immune to Water Damage**

  * **Highest Authority (Sea Transport)**




**Race: LV 25**

  * **Gorgon − LV 10**

  * **Nagaraj − LV 5**

  * **Pirate Royal − LV 5**

  * **Othinus − LV 5**




**Class: LV 75**

  * **Pirate − LV 10**

  * **Buccaneer − LV 10**

  * **Sea Witch − LV 10**

  * **Mystic Shaman – LV 10**

  * **Scribe − LV 15**

  * **Magic Scribe − LV 10**

  * **Others (10)**




**Ability Chart**

**HP: 80 (High)**

**MP: 75 (Above Average)**

**PHY. ATK: 85 (Very High)**

**PHY. DEF: 80 (Average)**

**AGILITY: 98 (Very High)**

**MAG. ATK: 85 (High)**

**MAG. DEF: 71 (Above Average)**

**RESIST: 50 (Average)**

**SPECIAL: EXCEEDS LIMIT**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Overlord wiki classes Nagas as a demi-human race. Sycorax's qualification to enter Ainz Ooal Gown comes from the Gorgon and Nagaraj races. As for how this conflation of Greek and Hindu mythologies is possible, the two mythologies share a common ancestor along with Norse mythology in the Proto-Indo-European religion.
> 
> As for her sense of justice, it functions the same way a humanoid cockroach king can have an alignment of -10: perspective. Pirates, Assassins and Thieves are supposed to be bad, though some interpret them as romantic anti-heroes. All of her in-game actions so far would be in keeping with her job as a pirate – raiding cities, stealing, piracy on the high seas and digitally – and less about her moral code, plus she usually had some moral action backing her movements.
> 
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!


	8. VII: Know the Ropes

The guild Hostis Humani Generis had its base on a fleet of sailing ships. In YGGDRASIL, this would have presented unique problems, especially with trap setting and being minimally permeable enough to qualify under the Ariadne system. Instead of reinforcing its position, Hostis Humani Generis had to figure out how to allow people to reach them simply to avoid being penalised. Not to mention, wooden sailing ships presented very little defences against sea monsters and the like. The  _Bourreau des Cœurs_  sinking into the Five Flower Lake right after their triumph over the Five Rainbow Buddhas had been an empathic wake-up call.

Surprisingly – or not – it had been Rear Admiral, one of their major combatants, who had thought of pykrete as a solution. Although the ice-and-sawdust mix originally conceived for aircraft carriers in World War Two had proven unviable in the real world, it was harder than concrete, seaworthy, and easy to make. YGGDRASIL also had the virtue of not being the real world, and had the ice magic and freedom of customisation to make it not only viable, but cost-effective. Their Guild Item, One Piece, had therefore been made to be able to build seaworthy vessels of any design with any material handy, and been designed explicitly to consider the watery seas that Hostis Humani Generis sailed on, complete with the Divine Class Items to make it happen, by  _any means necessary_.

It worked by changing the melting point and boiling point of the ice, allowing the ships to remain intact at any temperature. Some parts of the ships, though, remained permanently at their normal freezing points; the walk-in freezer, and the brig. The Seventh Division of the Fomori Fleet had shipwrights, Merry, and several other Elementalists on hand for fleet repairs. The lighting effects had been added later when Rear Admiral's research took him to read through all works by Kazuma Kamachi and recreate  _La Regina del Mare Adriatico_. The awe factor which resulted had had the guild cheering, and all their prospective enemies struggling between awe, jealousy or trying to copy the execution of the idea.

Thus, the Fomori Fleet – the fleet of icy ships which had garnered the collective title of 'World Traveller', the home base of Hostis Humani Generis – had been born.

It was in the brig now, that Captain Femel arc Vers Envers was curled up, with weak sunlight as the backdrop of his state. The brine-stung scratches on his back proved the measure of his punishment by keelhauling, and those, along with the frigid brig that he had been tossed into, threatened his health with pneumonia and hypothermia. His brown hair hung unkempt in a short knot, and his tunic clung to his skin. His breath steamed in the air with every exhale as he shivered, ignored save for the meals that came in thrice a day. The bells that continued to ring about periodically interrupted his sleep, but he had realised their regular pacing and the timing of his meals, usually a while behind the ringing of eight bells.

The eight chimes of glass bells rang slightly after dawn now. And, at precisely the same time, the doors of the brig swung open, and between the icy bars slid a small round loaf of bread, the top cut off but replaced. Beside the roll lay a round piece of white bread, the top toasted with garlic and toasted cheese.

With shaking fingers, Femel lifted the makeshift lid and sniffed the spicy contents. Femel had been a commoner in the Baharuth Empire, a simple soldier from Venetus, working his way up by pure talent and lucky enough to grab a commission on the virtue of his sailing skills. Bread and water was more or less his everyday fare. If he was lucky, wine that tasted less like vinegar and more like the vine. It was his first time being this close to fine white bread.

“Breakfast 's bit late 'cause o' the mutton.” the his red-headed visitor explained. Femel had long realised that, despite being abrasive, some of the people were certainly pleasant enough company by sailor standards. Ariel was certainly civil enough to get a salve from whatever medical officers they had onboard after the tortures of being dipped into a cauldron of boiling water, and to ignore any and all curses and invectives, and to keep Femel away from leering Fishmen with serrated teeth like those of sharks...

Alright, Femel decided, Ariel was more like his only ally despite being a monster.

“Mutton vindaloo, made less spicy for you, in a bread bowl, the extra bread to dip. Milk on hand. In case.”

On the first night, Femel had completely refused the goulash and other dishes. It had taken breakfast and lunch before the warden had had the foresight to explain what each strange-looking dish contained, and even then it had taken their first extended conversation on food to work out. The spiciness could use some work, but he had eaten better these past days as a prisoner.

“Oi, you cryin'?” Ariel plopped down with another plate. The monster was technically on duty, but the Fleet's officers were apparently flexible enough about the rules compared to under Femel's command.

“It's the spices!” Femel sniffed. “I'm not!”

“Good. Yer gettin' out after.”

Femel's appetite drained away. “Ah?”

“The Fleet Admiral ordered for you to be transported along the captain's gigs to pick up her stuffs.” Ariel absently picked at his own bread bowl, dipping the crispy cover to chew through the sop with the _crunch_ of a crust. “Think there was something 'bout a voyage and ransom.”

“But there's nothing to ransom with...” Femel trailed off. “You mean... me?”

“Guess.” A shrug of a slender shoulder. “Need someone who knows these waters. A good navigator's probably his weight in gold, ya know. Not like you coulda do anything on yer onesies.”

Femel's skin crawled, both in fear at what he had done, and wondering what had driven him to try to attack the monster who had sunk his ship with one spell. “I... I will die, then. I will not give her any knowledge.”

“Yer know, the Admiral's colours are way better.” Ariel crunched through the bread bowl's rim, having already eaten the cover. “An' you'd live too. S'not like we can' get knowledge ourselves.”

Since Femel had eaten parts of the Empire's Formaticum cheese onboard, he knew they were able to explore for themselves. “The Empire has given me a chance.”

“Yer funeral.” Part of the curry spilled slightly, causing Ariel to lick his hand where it had spilled. “The Admiral would make you talk anyway.”

Femel looked back at him, no longer touching his food. “By then, it would be by magic, and not by choice.” He looked back at the tray, and started eating.

“Spoken like a true sailor,” was Ariel's derisive response. “The colours we fly under all look the same once in a while, yer know. What's the difference here?”

Femel glared at him, but it was without heat. “I hail from Venetus, at the arse of the Empire. It was a small town of tiny islands, linked by bridges, beset upon by sea and land alike. I grew up with one foot in a boat and the other in the sea. I got an education from an uncle, a bard. Our Emperor killed most of the nobles one day, and started to hire soldiers.”

“Nice way to reform.” Ariel nodded.

“Men like myself, otherwise resigned to tilling the land for coppers... we went to Arwintar to plead our fortune in his expansive new army, for a chance at knighthood.” Femel continued. “His Majesty announced the formation of the Classis. The beginnings of the fleet. Money would flow to Venetus, for a new harbour, defences, food... ships larger than fishing boats. And we knew it. The Classis was made of the Venetians. All of us men of the coasts had a chance.”

“And we ruined it.” Ariel noted.

“They were my men, my ship.” Femel swallowed. “I am not sorry for it.”

“Neither should you be.” Ariel stood up, his diction now perfect rather than casual. “I notice that you speak like nobility.”

“Technically I am, but my mother married a commoner and her family was later struck down anyway.” Femel shrugged. “No great loss. Nobility is worth _shite_ around Venetus.”

“More's the pity.” Ariel commented neutrally. “You would have been a great pirate.”

Femel's lips twitched. “I grew up with one foot in a boat and the other in the sea. Not all of it was just fishing.”

* * *

The pigeon flew by homing instinct over the seas and skies, up a stream to a ford, where it cut through and headed south. Slightly off to the west of the Baharuth Empire, the pigeon's flight path was rapidly carrying it from coastal settlements, villages and grassy lands inter-spaced with rocky valleys, towards more urban settlements.

Buildings grew taller and more stylised, roads grew from muddy flats, and steadily became more paved and covered with brick and stone cemented with mortar concentrating on one point in the city. Our columbidian subject passed various offices, a wing of the Magic Academy centred around a quadrangle in which a group watched two people juggle fireballs, and several more wonders of the Baharuth Empire's capital, Arwintar.

The Imperial Palace, home to the reigning monarch, stood in the heart of the city. Though it had been built slightly off to the west, it still was centred at the nexus of the Empire's major roads and highways, and all roads truly led to the temporal centre of power.

Trained, the pigeon headed to the highest point, where a messenger stationed there accepted it and extracted the message. The pigeon was duly stationed into a bird-box to roost, as the messenger gave the parchment to a runner. The runner ran up stairs of marble and past imperial gardens, and announcing his presence and intent, he walked into a wide space filled with a desk and shelves. With a genuflect presented the message silently towards the room's owner.

A slender hand, fingers covered in rings, lifted the message and read through it. “Ah. You may go.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

His Imperial Majesty Jircniv Rune Farlord el Nix, Emperor of the Baharuth Empire, the Blood Emperor, considered the note once he was left in his personal study with the room's other occupant. “The  _Nazami Enec_  being sunk is an unfortunate occurrence. The incompetence of our spies in that section of Re-Estize might be even more so.”

“Oh?” the old man hummed into his teacup, which was handle-less, being held with its lid and a saucer underneath instead.

“Jiji, our attempts at extending our reach into the North Sea is gone, and they're still going on about the sea wool.” Jircniv exclaimed. “Those priorities are skewed if that wool is worth a ship.”

“Trade is hard enough without the Merman Navy holding down the North Sea's deep waters,” the old man shrugged. As the Empire's strongest Magic Caster, Fluder Paradyne had taught successive generations of the Empire's royalty and had been accorded special privilege. “I believe our focus was on the surrounding lands, and not the seas?”

“To have the option is better than nothing.” Jircniv resolved. “I have created a Knight Order for this, and to lose them all is not promising.”

“It is promising, I submit.” Fluder nodded. “To invade by sea would be an excellent move, in the event that the Kingdom's power was sapped that much. However, it appears that humans cannot _quite_ stand up to Fishmen just yet. It would take a scourge far more than what the Empire can muster on the seas.”

“Like pirates?”

Fluder Paradyne shook his head. “Nothing like that, Your Majesty. No ordinary pirate would brave untold dangers for the smallest of profits.”

Jircniv hissed in consideration. “Well, obviously from our vantage point... there is nothing more to be done. Now, if only we had word about what happened...”

* * *

  _  
__Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!_

 

Sycorax blinked. She was in the great cabin of the  _Queen of the Night_. Lanterns of paper floated along the deck railings, maintained with  「Continuous Light」. Music drifted in the starlit night, and chatter and laughter ruled the deck.

   
_We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot,_  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho!  
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot,  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho!

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!  
 _

Wait... she narrowed her eyes. The lanterns contained 「Shiranui」, a spell close to 「Drifting Master Mine」but capable of hiding in plain sight. And those lanterns were far too tattered-

“What are you thinking, oh great pirate Sycorax?” A giant  _sakazuki_  cup, more like a concave plate, thudded onto the table. “Are you asleep? Tokkuri, Masu! Bring the sake here!”

“Sake? How much more are you going to drink, Nurarihyon?” Sycorax winced as the sound of cracking clay echoed. “Are you sure you should use your summons for such ridiculous things?”

“It's our last day in this world, we should celebrate!” Her fellow player and Admiral, Nurarihyon, grinned back at her as he raised a smaller  _sakazuki_  cup to her. “It's not like you to hold back, Ms. Heartbreaker.”

“If the ship melts I'll get Checky on your case.”

Nurarihyon giggled, as a「Spirit Arrow」flew past one cheek to thud into the wall on Sycorax's left side. This happened at the same time a gun report resounded. “Checky-san is too busy keeping Librobum Prohibitorum and Icarus apart. Those two have an _interesting_ relationship.”

Sycorax turned slightly to watch the direction it came from; a human-sized Fairy was brandishing her bow drunkenly towards what looked like a silhouette of a naval captain in full dress uniform, with a giant teddy bear separating them. “No, Checky is separating Read Admiral and Titania, so those two guys should be together in the hold. I'm so jealous of them.”

“For making out in the hold?”

“Things that merit an 18+ rating is forbidden in YGGDRASIL. As for them... more like for having such a close relationship,” Sycorax reflected. “I... I was supposed to go to an  _akachōchin_  for a group date. Probably... was it today?”

A hand absently patted on top of her hat.  “ Don't worry about it. You'll cook your head with all that thinking  if it was an all-you-can-eat or an all-you-can-drink establishment .”

“I can think, Nurarihyon! It was just the one time!”

“Yeah, the one time your empty head nearly cost us the Skidbaldnir. That's a _World-class Item_ , you know. Your priority sense is amazing.”

“What are you doing to my Sycorax, you pervert  _onmyoji_?!” A wooden hammer sent Nurarihyon away from Sycorax, before deceptively strong yet slender arms smashed Sycorax against a plump chest. “Ah, my dear!”

“A- Akemi-san, I can't... breathe... help...! Ahh...!”

“ _Admiral?! Admiral!_ ”

One green eye blinked. Sycorax struggled, finding herself asleep in a foldable chair on the deck of a captain's gig, also made of the enchanted ice that the fleet was composed of. Somehow, she was half-hanging off of it, because Nereus had her in a half-carry, trying to check her forehead and her mouth. Around them was a breeze, carrying the briny smell of the sea so different from the flat cold of the breeze that rippled across Mimisbrunnr, back in the virtual world of YGGDRASIL.

“N- Nereus?!”

“You said you couldn't breathe,” Nereus clarified.

“Ah... I talk in my sleep...” Sycorax nervously motioned to Nereus, causing him to put her back down. “It's nothing. I just had a dream... about Nurarihyon and the rest.”

“Ah, the Admiral, Nurarihyon-sama?” Nereus glanced to the side. “That weapon... is it to do with that weapon? Or the letters you got with Caliban...”

“I got it from our new Fishmen statuary.” Sycorax yawned slightly. “As for the letter.... right, I got it from Lovely-san's messenger at the Sia Heka Inn, from the Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, across the Kingdom. As for the sword, it's our creation.”

“Our goods...” Nereus started. “You mean... the Admiralty made this?”

“We were starting out.” Sycorax sighed. “Somehow, we had to raise funds to attend the official martial tournament. Checky and I collaborated on the Kiribachi; he made the weapon, and I enchanted it. Runes for reinforcement, special effects via data crystals, even sourcing the Hammerhead monsters for the skin used to wrap the guard as parchment... it was our first masterpiece together, this Kiribachi. We sold it to Nurarihyon, who hadn't joined us then. It was a Relic-class artefact, so I thought he might have sold it away already.”

 _T_ _hen who knew that he would join us into the_ _martial tournament..._  she thought.  _We had a lot of strange people join u_ _s after he did that to Luci_ _★Fer..._

“Do you think... that... Nurarihyon-sama might be in this world?” Nereus asked.

“All thirty-seven members, active and otherwise, in Hostis Humani Generis was present for our send-off.” Sycorax sighed. “And, that Fishman called it a 'legendary weapon'. Even if Nurarihyon didn't sell it off, this still means that there are people other than us and Ainz Ooal Gown from YGGDRASIL here. And... and... and the rest of it is a pain to think about. But...”

“But?” Nereus asked.

“We sold to Nurarihyon two swords.” Sycorax frowned to herself. “Kiribachi and Kirisame.”

Nereus made a noise suspiciously close to a neigh. “Admiral, I think we have other concerns than that.”

“Perhaps I mis-phrased that.” Sycorax paused, thinking. Behind her, the yardarm of the  _Habu_  shifted position, and before them the silhouette of a giant barque was becoming more apparent. “The two swords were crafted at the same time, from the same ore, and made as complements of each other. Where one goes, the other would be present. So, those who hold one can find the other.”

“I see!” Nereus nodded. “So we can find the other sword, and possibly someone with it!”

Sycorax nodded, looking as the barque made itself clearer, shimmering against a backdrop of the permanent fog their tiny island had acquired during their stay, courtesy of Ariel and his Division. That light that shone, the enchanted illumination, made the figurehead even brighter. Sycorax had not paid much attention to the ship's figurehead until she did a comparison and asked Checky why was there a holy virgin on her ship as compared to the rest.

“ _Hail, Queen of_ _H_ _eaven, the_ _O_ _cean_ _S_ _tar,_ ” she hummed. “ _Guide of the wanderer here below..._ ” She paused, frowning. “The song... Mary, the virgin mother... ah, right,  _stella maris_.”

“Admiral?”

“Ah, Checky said that he designed all of the ships that One Piece produced with a song as an inspiration.” Sycorax clarified. “For example, the  _Queen of the Night_ uses the song 'Hail Queen of Heaven, the Ocean Star' as its base. And the  _Cedar_ uses 'Hoist the Colours' as its ship's song.”

“I see, Vice-Admiral Checky said so...” Nereus pondered. “What about the  _Heart of Oak_?”

“Ah, that was Rear Admiral's suggestion.” Sycorax's lips twitched. “There was a song called 'Heart of Oak' in naval tradition, you know? We didn't know that.  _Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,_ _With heads carried high, we will banish all fear_ _..._  and the rest of the song I forgot, oh dear. Merry knows it, though.”

“About Merry...” Nereus beckoned. “He never mentioned it.”

“When a Klabautermann sings its ship's song, things get hairy.” Sycorax hummed. “ _Ashita kaze ga toorinuketa toki ni, pazuru ga kaketeita toshitemo, dare mo sore wo semetari shinai yo_ _..._ say, let's see the other ships. There's no problem, right?”

“Half the staff are on shore leave, but yes, we should have enough men to occupy my absence. If that is your wish, Sycorax-sama.”

“What's with the -sama...?” Sycorax rolled her eyes, picking up the Kiribachi to store away into her pocket dimension as Nereus crouched by the deck and whistled. Soon, an air sprite floated down from the higher decks of the Fleet flagship.

“Admiral's inspection.” Nereus relayed. “We're going to be a bit late. Get the  _Mamushi_  and the  _Copperhead_  settled, along with our guest in the brig.”

“Wait,” interrupted Sycorax. “Let's bring the captain along. We need to talk anyway. And, Nereus, you come with me.”

“Aye.” Nereus relayed the changed instructions, which caused the sprite to fly back up as Sycorax removed her ring and transformed back into a Nagī.

Soon, a mass of a restrained captain landed next to Sycorax on the deck, causing the  _Habu_  to bob up and down. Behind the  _Habu_ , the other two boats floated next to the Queen of the Night, from which a pair of ropes per boat were being tossed down.

“Captain Envers, am I correct?” Sycorax tilted her head to examine the legionnaire, who looked curiously vulnerable having been stripped of all his armour and was currently in a woollen tunic. “Can you speak?”

The man cringed away from her hand.

“Ah, Sakuya...” Sycorax groaned. “If I'm right... most of the Intelligence Division is composed of myself, Nurarihyon, Kladenets... Nagato and the other NPCs... what happened?”

“Ah, the whole room attacked him.” Nereus clarified. “Baba Sakuya was the Demon Hag you assigned, but she was distracted by Baba Yaga, and in the end their subordinates took over.”

“Baba Yaga- oh, the NPC created by Kladenets.” Sycorax tapped the prow of the boat in consideration. “Oi, are you alright? I'm going to throw you into the sea if you don't respond.”

“YES!”

“What that so hard?” Sycorax shrugged as the captain struggled to his feet, wavering unsteadily as the  _Habu_  floated along the length of the  _Queen of the Night_.

Femel blinked, his head craning up to judge the gun decks and the decks and the castles on the fore and aft of the ship. He had been stunned into silence, even as Sycorax waved her hand before his face. Then she drew back and socked him in the face.

“Pervert.” Sycorax rolled her eyes as the Knight of the Classis of the Baharuth Empire fell down. “The  _Queen of the Night_  is a beautiful lady, but you can't use those eyes to look at a lady like that!”

“It hurt...” Femel struggled back to his feet. “I- I'm sorry, but... I was impressed. This ship is much bigger than the  _Nazami Enec_.”

“And it's just one ship,” Sycorax smirked as they rounded the stern and transom of the  _Queen_.

Mists swirled along the surface on the ocean, and the grinning skulls of Skeletons slaving away at cleaning the other ships seemed to float in the indistinct shadows. Midday seemed a world away under this dark weather, illuminated by the other enchanted ships of the Fomori fleet. The makes and model of every sail might have been represented in living, seaworthy ice along the coast of their makeshift harbour. Barque, long-ship, caravel, Chinese junk...

Femel tentatively reached out, amazed as his hand stuck to the transom until he tore it back with some effort. “It's... made of ice?”

“Ice and wood pulp,” Sycorax corrected. “The  _Nazami Enec_  was made purely of wood, am I correct?”

Femel quickly nodded. “The finest pines on the Azerlisia Mountains were used to make it, my lady. We floated them down the Lisia River to Venetus.”

“The resin would make it waterproof, but it's a soft wood that won't stand up to deep waters.” Sycorax noted. “Venetus, was it?”

“Yes. The City of Canals is truly amazing-”

“It's built on canals?” Sycorax started.

“Yes...” Femel nodded. “It's stuck in a swamp between the Azer and Lisia rivers, so nobody thought it would work out, not even the dukes that ruled it. The naval expansion gave us hope, that we would not need to abandon the seas.”

“The sea is a cruel mistress, Captain.” Sycorax commented.

“No, the sea is its own person.” Femel sighed. “It is the thought of what lies behind the horizon that tortures men. Just like what lies beyond the minds of men in your mind.”

Sycorax was silent.

“I will not reveal any more of the Empire, or of Venetus, for I will not betray it to monsters.” Femel swallowed. “Do what you must.”

Sycorax studied him. “My dear boy, why did you expect me to kill you?”

“I am nothing to the Emperor, and after this I will have no career, or I will turn to piracy.” Femel evenly stared back at her. Sycorax was struck by how young he was, right down to his knees shaking openly on the deck. “I am an officer of the Empire.”

“I do not think it means what you think it means, Captain.” Sycorax nodded as the rest of the Fleet's ships, save for the  _Sequoia_ , loomed in view. “You could get a boat, do some private running all on your onesies as a privateer, get a commission from the Empire too. There's no difference between a pirate and a privateer. A letter of marque and reprisal is about the same as a navy commission. The food tends to be better, too.”

Femel's face twisted, though his eyes remained fixated on the ships and their eerie silhouettes, especially the comparatively flat and wide deck of the  _Spruce_. “I must agree with that assessment. A lot of our provisions were meant for long storage rather than palatability, with a prospective long voyage.”

“Hmm. You're not going to get very far without navigation.”

“Ah, we were going to stay within sight of land, but I guess it's impossible,” agreed Femel.

“You... don't have any navigation tools?” Sycorax found herself asking, with a sinking feeling.

Femel scratched at his temple. “What are those?”

“So... how do you determine the directions?”

“Ah! We have a compass that a few explorers retrieved from the floating castle in Eryuentiu. It will always point north.”

“But that only tells you which direction is north, you know...” Sycorax blinked. “So... was the plan, by any chance, to simply follow the currents along the coast and cover the continent?”

“Yes...”

Sycorax recalled her own screw-ups, right until she had picked up the 「Navigation」skill module along with 「Cartography」in becoming a Scribe. “And your maps are, like, super basic too...”

“Our cartographers did the best they could with sun-stones and polesuses!” Femel defended weakly as they sailed past the ships. “The sun-stone let us locate the Sun to navigate!”

Sycorax could sympathise. Navigating the nine worlds of YGGDRASIL had been slightly less awesome when the first ship of Hostis Humani Generis had been lost around Midgard, unable to figure out the night skies half the time, and being lost under the sun the rest of the time. The 「Navigation」skill had saved them literally and allowed the guild to make some headway in exploring the Nine Worlds. As one of the few Scribes who had levelled up all the way – and the _only_ one to specialise in geography – Sycorax had the ability to create the most reliable navigational maps of the Nine Worlds, dungeon maps with threats listed, and even chart the paths between worlds using the twisted astronomy of YGGDRASIL.

Since not everyone could have the World Class Item 「Atlas」that could map the universe – and since said Item that had been lost from the treasury of Ainz Ooal Gown had fallen into her hands _by complete accident_ – Hostis Humani Generis had more or less cornered the cartography market in the later years of YGGDRASIL, netting millions of gold in quests and sales. Sycorax's most powerful information-gathering Item had also managed to augment the already phenomenal navigation prowess of the guild, leapfrogging them towards infamy. Knowledge _is_ power, after all.

“And your navigators went down...”

“Along with the bulk of the Empire's navigational knowledge,” Femel admitted reluctantly. “Whatever astronomy charts we have left is in the Magic Academy's library in Arwintar.”

Sycorax tilted her head in consideration. “The mountains are a better place to view the skies, since it's closer.”

“No, the Imperial Observatory is in Arwintar.” Femel replied. “The Dwarves Kingdom is up there, and we have a treaty with them, so an observatory up there would be really useful. Ah...” Femel mulled over the thought. “Why are you telling me that? I tried to kill you, and we're totally different... and you run a fleet of monsters...”

“I told you, Captain Envers.” Sycorax cast an eye at him, her face backlit with the light of the Fleet flagship. “There's no difference between a pirate and a privateer. Both attack the opponents' ships, both wrestle for the power of the seas, sailing for beyond the horizon. Monster or human makes for little distinction when it's the devil or the deep blue sea.”

The inspection was completed in minimal silence, and then Captain Envers was escorted back into the brig by a troop of the Fleet's Fishmen ratings. As she stepped onto the deck, Sycorax turned back to Nereus.

“Tomorrow we're salvaging the warship. Get your Division ready.”

Nereus saluted. “Yes, Admiral.”

 

 

<http://toarumajutsunoindex.wikia.com/wiki/File:LaReginadelMareAdriatico_MaryFigurehead.png>

* * *

The Naga Lights that Sycorax had summoned hung around the chandelier of the great cabin. On either arm of the throne, a raven perched, their glossy black plumage belying their sleekness and size. The throne itself, an icy copy of the most powerful information-gathering Item, stood Sycorax at the head of a circular table. The centre of the table bore a glowing crystal hemisphere covered in blue grid lines. As Sycorax sat herself at the throne, the other commanders and a few more officers trailed in to sit as well.

“Everyone,” began Sycorax. “All of you here collectively represent the Fomori Fleet's seven Divisions, and the responsibilities held towards the crew. As the creations of your predecessors, I trust in your capabilities to at least table the problems to our great enterprise.”

“Aye-aye, Admiral!”

“As Fleet Admiral, I now call this meeting to order. First on the agenda; the prize. From the sale of Merry's salt, and other businesses, we have amassed a thousand golds exact within three days.” Sycorax dropped the bag onto the table. “Everyone should know the conversion; seventeen silver to a gold, and twenty-nine coppers to a silver. Nagato?”

Nagato consulted a notebook. “Two hundred gold coins for a month of regular food supplies from the town, listed as Corne's Village. Deducting that and a further three hundred gold coins for future needs. There is a surplus of five hundred gold, working out to two hundred forty-six thousand, five hundred coppers in total. Assuming the usual divisions, then eight hundred and eighty coppers will be entered into the Fleet common fund, and each ship will receive twenty-seven thousand, three hundred coppers. With further subdivisions, on average each crewman gets thirty coppers at minimum, after factoring in the extra shares for the other officers and the navigation officers.”

Nereus raised a hand. “Even including my expenses?”

“Yes, Nereus.” Nagato considered the papyrus she held. “All of your work expenses have been accounted for by the Admiral's pay scheme.”

“Alright!” Nereus put his hand down.

“Next item, the maps. Nereus?”

“Ah, the First Division worked with the navigators to map it out.” Nereus pushed a stack of ruled parchments onto the table. “Because we bought so cattle raw, we made our own parchment for these maps. They're just rough sketches, though.”

“Good work.” Sycorax examined the maps of the coast, setting them under the hemisphere. It glowed, before projecting the drawn image as part of a globe.

“The Fifth Division has yet to determine the position of this world to YGGDRASIL.” Phaeton relayed. “The possibility remains that this world follows a different construction.”

In YGGDRASIL, there was still a limit to how high the sky could be computed. Despite running off the advanced version of the Half-Earth function, YGGDRASIL's worlds had been composed of nine great circle discs, with the World Tree's trunk at its centre. People had lauded it as a world of discs, and it had been possible to sail right off the edge of one world and fall, with Niflheim being the absolute limit of the Nine Worlds servers. The official martial tournament took place in Asgard, the topmost world; by not paying for the fee in a Fairy Ring, Sycorax had consigned the whole guild, ships included, to a gruelling climb via the Knock Up Streams from Mimisbrunnr up to Urdarbrunnr.

“If we have stars... perhaps it is a globe?” Sycorax pondered. “Merry, how goes the longitude problem?”

“Ah, I worked out that there was basically no change in time from our transition from YGGDRASIL.” The childish Klabautermann volunteered. “Our chronometers work as normal, and so does the cannonade. I created a Foucault's pendulum and worked out that the world is rotating under our feet.”

“I see.” Sycorax leant to the hemisphere and tapped its surface, causing the projected image to move from a flat area on a circle, a square, and then to be superimposed on a blue globe. “So, the world should look like this. Phaeton, your Division should be able to see a curve from a higher vantage point, but try not to push it.”

“Yes.”

“The navigators have also earmarked Corne's Village as the origin point, Sycorax-sama.” Nagato stated, pulling out more charts from a shelf. “We have mapped out certain stars that are used for celestial navigation, according to the books that you have retrieved from the villages and in Re-Ulovale. The moment a new expedition begins, we will be ready to calculate longitude and latitude, but...”

Sycorax looked at her. “But what?”

“We currently do not have a weather glass.” Nagato regretfully imparted.

“Ah, about that... that leads us to item three,” Sycorax shrugged. “The  _Nazami Enec_  contains the Baharuth Empire's navigation tools, including a sun-stone. If we acquire it, we should be able to locate the Sun's azimuth. It's a fact that we need knowledge of the waters too. So, tomorrow morning, the First Division will come with me to raise the ship.”

“Aye.” Nagato nodded.

“Uhm...” Bonny hummed. “Why is the human still in the brig? He tried to kill Sycorax-sama...”

Sycorax pondered it. “We killed his crew. It's expected. We still need him. And, tomorrow... we are going to take apart his ship. So, it is inevitable. This world must have wonderful things, and I want to see them with everyone. Even Momonga-san too... ah, right. Last item.”

Sycorax's hands set down onto the table. “We are to open a meeting with the guild Ainz Ooal Gown, inland. I need one of you to go.”

* * *

Once upon a time, there had been a guild, Le Monde. Its members were Tarot-based, and they were working to role-play world conquest. They had been rather good at it, too, taking large swathes of Jotunheimr. Until one of them had crossed a member of Hostis Humani Generis.

The site of the resulting guild battle had been called Gear Breaker. It showed the first large-scale conflict of World Class Items. It had started the search for, and jealous guarding, of World Class Items by guilds. It had also showed that the Balance Breakers had high costs for stupid usages; Le Monde had fielded the 「Lance of Longinus」, and lost its guild leader in the process of accidentally erasing an NPC member. Hostis Humani Generis had simply picked up their fallen guild weapon, winning without even a single World Class Item on their side.

Some guilds, like Ainz Ooal Gown, managed to publicly garner World Class Items in the double digits, even if only eleven of them were retained in Momonga's care. Momonga had no idea how many World Class Items, if any, that Hostis Humani Generis had, but it was by sheer coincidence that Sycorax had not heard the resulting conversation of Demiurge asking his master.

“Momonga-sama, my apologies for questioning your decision, but why did you not inform this Sycorax about your ambition to take this world?”

“... Excuse me?”

She would have punched Momonga, ignoring all his defences to hit right at the soul, and it would possibly have killed him. It was for the best, really.

 


	9. VIII: Weather Eye

 

~'✵'~

〇月 ✕日

_Kaiō Michiru-san,_

_Thank you for your prompt reply to the letter. I would admit that sending a messenger crow did not occur to me at the time_ _of writing_ _, and I acknowledge your essay upon the merits of a dedicated postal service_ _and the practical example of_ _your bird messenger awaiting me outside of the Adventurers' Guild_ _._ _Bran –_ _the name of_ _your messenger_ _crow summon_ _,_ _according to your letter –_ _has been granted with access through Nazarick proper._ _A_ _ny messengers he brings or sends would become the utmost priority to be entertained – though, Albedo might be threatening him..._

_*ink blot*...Right. Where was I?_

_Writing to you – and seeing the images captured via_ _「_ _Camera Obscura_ _」_ _,_ _as well – has become a cathartic endeavour;_ _though I require neither food nor sleep, my stress can only be vented through letters or to you personally via_ _「_ _Message_ _」_ _._ _Writing to you allows me to keep a journal – this is what we call the epistolary format, right? –_ _by simply duplicating my correspondence, and I find myself noting more and more details about life in_ _this city, E-Rantel._ _This world, I find, is both rich and strange; burgeoning in potential, and so different from our own world_ _that even communicating the differences would take up more papers than I care to use_ _._ _Sometimes, I forget that I am telling another person my secrets-_

_*the paper is ripped; continued in another portion*_

_A_ _h, please forgive the ink stains again._

_With that said, though the details of urban life inland might serve some interests to a tourist, I have yet to make the same headway_ _on my search_ _. The presence of Kiribachi –_ _the_ _weapon_ _that you sold_ _, no less! –_ _here_ _indicates that there may be more of our kind in this continent,_ _this new world_ _._ _The technical details of your proposal escapes me slightly, but I understand that the Fomori Fleet will be undertaking a voyage in_ _about_ _a year's time_ _to search for our comrades_ _,_ _once_ _enough observations about the stars to produce accurate navigational charts_ _is accrued._ _I look_ _ed_ _upon the sketches of celestial maps and marvel at the details; Hostis Humani Generis does not fail its reputation as the best cartographer_ _s'_ _distributor_ _of YGGDRASIL,_ _said to have charted the Nine Worlds..._

_*_ _ink blot_ _*_

_I_ _meant to cancel that or white it out._ _Not having the chemicals or the proficiency with a quill is a pain._ _Please do forgive me_ _again_ _, Michiru-san._ _If you have writing implements that are familiar to me, I beg you to send me some._ _E_ _ven a pen_ _would be more usable than this_ _-_

_*_ _ink blot_ _*_

_A_ _nyway,_ _I congratulate you on your new enterprise, and_ _your upcoming reconnaissance trip into the northern coasts of the Baharuth Empire, which I myself have yet to explore._ _Your notes upon the weather are appreciated, though seeing as my disposition disallows the cold to affect me, I suppose it must be tough for your reptilian body at the moment. Please dress_ _ warmly _ _._ _(this word was underlined thrice)_

_S_ _peaking of explorations, we have dodged quite a bullet last night. My subordinates_ _in Nazarick_ _had been harbouring the delusion that_ _I wished to conquer this world_ _with your assistance_ _._ _I had since explained the situation to him,_ _and clarified my lack of ambition in this regard_ _to the whole of Nazarick_ _._ _Though the possibility exists given a comparison of the other countries and us,_ _it is too much trouble._ _I_ _also_ _believe_ _that you would consider world conquest to be_ _troublesome and problematic._

 _Still, I caution_ _you_ _,_ _Michiru-san,_ _we will have to find ways to maintain our independence_ _if we must search for our comrades_ _._ _The need to take up arms against the other kingdoms and entities in this new world might happen._ _I, and by extension Ainz Ooal Gown, would of course lend our assistance if you were to come inland for some reason._ _My envoys would anticipate your representatives in Re-Estize._

_*_ _ink blot_ _*_

_Michiru-san, I am sure that the dread Pirate Sycorax_ _would meet great success_ _in the Baharuth Empire._ _Though I regret that neither of us will be able to meet in Re-Estize, I comprehend the stakes and hope for fruitful results in your_ _quest._

_*_ _ink blot_ _*_

_I only regret my lack of ability to support you here_ _,_ _and my contributions limited to the weight limit that Bran is able to carry; would it not so, perhaps all of Nazarick's information-gathering facilities would be on hand to assist you._

_In bidding you a good voyage,_ _I am_ _,_

_Yours s_ _incerely,_

_Suzuki Satoru_

~'✵'~

* * *

Sycorax, the Fleet Admiral of the Fomori, and current commander of the brig-sloop  _Amaranth_ , stood on the quarterdeck, glaring out to the sea. In one hand was a spear, its head glowing with runes that spun lazily in the air around the blade. She glared out at the black waters of the North Sea.

“I just cast the Over Rank Magic「Creation」,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the creaking of the sails, the slap of the waves of the sea, and the rush of the wind, “and there is no land. Why is there no land?”

The weather-beaten faces that had been regarding him quizzically suddenly vanished as each crewman looked down, twisting his cap in hands scored by years of hard, dangerous work at sea. They shuffled their bare, webbed feet on the roughly made ice deck of the _Amaranth_ 's weather deck. No one ventured a reply.

Sycorax had not been expecting one. There had been a reason why the seas had remained in YGGDRASIL, despite the existence of Over Rank Magics like 「Creation」. Many a raiding party had tried that strategy, only to have utterly exhausted themselves trying to change the _terrain_ for a different field effect than the immediate death-and-revival-in-Davy-Jones'- locker one.

“I will tell you why!” Sycorax roared. She thumped the spear, the magic-casting 「Rune-Infused Spear」, onto the quarterdeck. “This Over Rank Magic, this magic beyond the ten ranks of Magic spells that by all rights should change the effect of the sea to something resembling land is not working _because_ ,” he paused for effect, “the sea is _not_ land! She cannot be persuaded, forced or otherwise manipulated contrary to her nature! No Over Rank Magic can change _her_!”

She whirled about to Femel, who was standing next to her. Having cleaned up somewhat, the straw-haired guest aboard was trying not to look too lost as the only human in a ship of monsters by gripping the railings of the quarterdeck.

“Captain Envers!” she rapped his knuckles lightly with the shaft of her spear. “What, in your professional opinion, should be our next move to retrieve your sunken lady, if the North Sea would not be persuaded to turn back?”

“Erm...” Femel blinked like a fish. It was a very common reaction to facing the Pirate Sycorax, as opposed to Fleet Admiral Sycorax. “Go in?”

“Ahh.” Sycorax counted. “The word you seek, is  _dive_. So you'll be persuaded to dive for her, eh?”

Femel glanced at the crew, swallowed, and stoutly replied, “I can't swim in the deep ocean.”

“Pearl of the Classis you are.” Sycorax strode about by the quarter deck's tables, where the selection of a  _plateau des fruits de mer_  was laid out, along with a dish of a sauce made of crushed shallots, cracked pepper, and apple vinegar. She picked up a complete oyster shell coated with lashings of sauce, slurping up the bite in one smooth swallow. “Much as the lovely ladies of the First Division can dive and breathe underwater, I would rather not send them to a place colder than the arse-end of Fimbulvetr. So! If we cannot go down to the ship, she must come to us.”

Femel was still blinking at the words. “Erm... sure. She's at the bottom of the sea, though.”

The Rune-Infused Spear was thumped again. “「Ursula's Call」. If the honourable  _Nazami Enec_  would care to come to the surface?”

As a Sea Witch, Sycorax's spells were related to the moon, the tides, the weather and the seas. The seas of YGGDRASIL presented no problem to her, even when Elder Liches had been crushed in certain areas of the World Tree's waters. Raising a ship from the watery depths was a non-issue for her, especially with the maritime salvage spell, 「Ursula's Call」.

As a ring of floating runes expanded before they imploded in flashes of light, the waves abruptly calmed, and then the  _Amaranth_ started to list towards starboard as the tips of a mast broke through the surface. It was followed by another mast, and then the deck railings, a wooden hull of overlapping planks laid lapstrake and nailed with iron nails, corded with barnacle shells. The gilt-edged carving of the ship's name glittered:  _Nazami Enec_.

It looked about half the size of the  _Amaranth._  It floated, underwhelming compared to the Fomori Fleet's newest ship _._ “Hello, love.” Sycorax shrugged. “Prepare for boarding!”

Femel grimaced at the sight of half-nibbled skeletons, some still in armour, finger-bones clinging to the sides of the ship. “How...? I... magic?”

“And a pirate can't learn magic?” Sycorax archly commented, playing with the shell before tossing it aboard. Grabbing one of the rigging lines, she swung aboard the ship despite the link of a plank being set up between the ships. “Look for a chest! It's probably got the sun-stone. Bring it to me.”

“Found it!” One of the Fishmen who had leapt across waved, easily carrying an iron-riveted chest to fling across. Another Fishman heaved as he caught it, setting it down with a grunt of effort.

Sycorax looked at him. “I'm standing right here.”

He wilted. “Sorry, Admiral.”

“See that you are.” The chatoyant eye cast a glance at the frozen Fishman. “Continue, Mr Flounder.”

The crew collectively relaxed at her words, going about its business. Femel frowned, blinking at an octopus Fishman. “What's going on?”

“Ah...” the octopus Fishman's six upper arms fidgeted. “Flounder screwed up in front of the Admiralty's highest. He's lucky he didn't get turned into stone.”

“Turned into stone?” Femel enquired.

“Ya see-”

“What are you doing, Para?”

Para literally turned white thanks to his octopus heritage at the smooth voice of Nereus. “The human asked.”

“And if you had time to answer him, then you must have the time to board.” Nereus stared at him. “The Fleet Admiral wants the ship cleaned out now.”

“Yes, Commander Nereus!” Para more or less flung himself across the gunwale.

“He was just answering a question,” Femel told Nereus. “Something about turning into stone. Is there... a Basilisk in the fleet?”

“Well, the Fifth Division maintains the Fleet's beasts, but that's not what he was talking about.” Nereus paused for effect. “Sycorax-sama has the skill 「Petrifying Gaze」. Whatever that was caught in her deliberate gaze would be turned into stone.”

Nereus was technically correct. The「Petrifying Gaze」skill for Gorgons only worked like that up to opponents level 50 and above. Then, it required prolonged exposure to have an effect more than just Slowing an opponent, which was still useful at the high tiers of level 100 YGGDRASIL players.

However, Sycorax possessed the Divine-class Items, the Eyes of the Gorgon Sisters, amongst other ocular Items with special effects. The Eye of Euryale could cast the 「Petrifying Gaze」 spell on large numbers of opponents, as befitting an Item named for the Far-Flier. The Eye of Medusa offered additional holy protection in the form of the ability to cast the「Gorgoneion」spell, and the ability to summon a holy-attribute Pegasus mount. Either of these Eyes had seen coverage at high-level PVP battles.

Yet, Sycorax most often resorted to the Eye of Stheno, which worked not by inflicting the Petrified status effect, but by changing a single target's race to Statue. No mirror or arrow could defend against it. Against the highest magical protections, the race change would work only for ten seconds; enough time for Sycorax's fists to pummel a defenceless Statue. Added with「Rider of the Storm」bypassing the opponent's defending stats, a quick「Hurricane Uppercut」had ended PVP fights by breaking a Statue more than once.

Femel was still a stranger, despite being the Admiral's guest. The ratings might gossip needlessly, but Nereus was still keeping Femel away from the Fleet's secrets.

“I trust,” he added as Femel blanched, “that you understand how close to death you were.”

Sycorax knelt, blinking as she broke the neck cartilage holding a skull to the rest of a body. “Captain, see. Did you know him?”

“I...” Femel stared at the body and its clothes. “It is the navigator. Chicory. The other one is Cicely, his fellow navigator. They were... brothers.”

Sycorax eyed him. “There must be a colourful history behind that pause.”

“They called themselves brothers, because their fathers were aboard the same ship, joined together as mates with their lots in this life.” Femel explained. “The fathers were also joined with their mother. It happens in Venetus.”

“Oh! We call that matelotage.” Sycorax nodded. “Well, the French call it something else, but there is still the meaning of two men in a boat, far from a lot of other people, occasionally wallowing in sperm-”

“Excuse me?!” Femel rubbed his ears, staring at her.

“Sperm oil,” Sycorax rambled on, ignoring him. “From the sperm whale. The fastest way to get a lot of meat to sell at once is by whaling, especially the cachalot.”

“Oh.” Femel considered, looking at the skull that Sycorax proffered at him. “I knew him, Chicory. He and his brother entered the world at the same time, so unlike each other despite being twins. We guessed that they came from different fathers, but... miracles happen. He was a joker. A prankster. Well, where are your jokes now?”

“Sounds like a nine days' wonder.” Sycorax took back the skull, bouncing it in her palm. “「The Twelfth」.”

The head twitched.

At a glance, Femel thought that Sycorax was the one moving it. Then the jaw moved, causing rotting flesh to slide off of it as it spoke: “I'm so surprised to be above the sea, my face is going to fall off! Oh, wait, it did!” The teeth clacked together. “Oh, shit, I'm talking.”

“I have eighteen special charms, each which reveals something different.” Sycorax winked. “Now then, Mr Chicory. Shall we parley?”

* * *

~'✵'~

〇月✕日

_Satoru-san,_

_My pleasure at receiving your letter via Bran was compounded by a number of issues. My friend, your first letter's pristine state conceals your difficulties in writing with a quill!_

_Thus, I have taken the liberties to enclose a few pens for you, courtesy of Hostis Humani Generis. There is a pen-holder, with a handful of steel nibs – a proper Blacksmith would be able to dissect the methods of manufacture, should you have one on hand. The same ink with which you have written with can be used with the pens. The nibs are strong enough to stab through flesh, as I have tested a batch on an analogue – there is a dead pig with nib stabs in its belly, yes. DO NOT BREAK THESE NIBS. I will turn the aforementioned pig into a writing desk to be sent to you – spare the joke about ravens and writings desks at the next letter, if you please._

_As for erasing, I confess that I had retained the services of a miniature Gelatinous Cube as my eraser in private correspondence. It is a far more efficacious method, though unusable in human society. However, in my work writing correspondence in human company, I confess that I have made multiple mistakes, which I have concealed with white paint. I have provided in the attached package a small bottle as well, which I recommend should be applied with a small brush or reed. It can also be duplicated should you have a top-class Alchemist on hand._

_However, I am, to my horror, unable to provide paper for you, having found a dearth of paper and parchment along the coastal areas of this continent. I note that you, my friend, live next to a forest – I have included a simple recipe for papyrus in the back, along with annotations about which woods provide the best pulp._

_Speaking of which, I dreadfully forgot to mention, I had a prisoner of the Baharuth Empire. I am going to ransom him back to the Baharuth Empire, hence my sojourn to the other side of the mountains. My hostage, Captain Femel, has been rather courteous despite my sinking of his ship, the_ Nazami Enec _, a few days ago. I believe that we are still working out some understanding which would allow me to at least present the idea of a letter of marque to the Emperor of the Baharuth Empire. The fact that I used magic to talk to his dead friends, though, has distinctly cooled some relations._

_Regardless of the situation of the politics of piracy, I will still relieve the Grand Library of the Arwintar Magic Caster Academy of a few volumes. It is absolutely necessary, because the astronomy charts so vital to the circumnavigation of the globe are stored there, as are the volumes of the current theories of magic. Books in this world, my friend, apparently cost the earth. So while I am off on hostage negotiations and grand larceny on the other side of the Mountains, I await your reply, and wish you,_

_All the Best,_

_Kaiō Michiru_

~'✵'~


	10. IX: Shake a Leg

 

Titus Annaeus Secundus, Chief Librarian of the Grand Library Ashurbanipal within the Great Tomb of Nazarick, trembled outside of a pair of double doors. His bony fingers –a literal fact for a Skeleton Mage – rapped on the heavy wood.

“Enter.”

The door swung open. The richly furnished study and its mahogany desk was not unoccupied – behind the desk sat the overlord of the Great Tomb.

“M- Momonga-sama!” Titus bowed his lead low in the presence of the august death lord. “Y- You sent for me?”

“Ah, Titus, I did.” Momonga beckoned, with a skeletal hand dripping with Divine-class rings curling into a bony palm. The door closed softly at the gesture. “Come. Look at this that Sycorax-san has sent.”

Titus ventured closer to the grand desk, looking at said box. It was assembled of three layers of wood, stacked together and joined with brass hinges, each twenty-five centimetres across and fifteen centimetres down. The bottom layer comprised of a tiny drawer with a small shiny hanging handle, with the middle layer and the topmost layer cut in a diagonal line. The edges of the wood was covered in brass, for more protection, and on one side of the box was embossed a small maker's mark; a shield with sable a fess wavy between two pole stars Arctic and Antarctic, and a small motto:

   
✹ __  
Sic Parvis Magna  
✹  
 

Momonga unpacked the device, pulling open the drawer to show small compartments where lay a few sticks, a box of metal points, a small bottle of ink, a small Gelatinous Cube – a non-sentient mini Slime – with a bottle of white paint with a small brush, another sharp-pointed piece of metal, a paper-folder, a ruler, a small knife that Titus recognised was for scraping parchment, and a wooden stick with a black bit. Besides the implements lay a stack of smooth white material in its own compartment.

“Sycorax-san sent it by messenger crow, along with her correspondence.” Momonga explained. “This is apparently a travelling dispatch case, or a writing box. Observe this pen.”

Titus watched in rapt awe as a sharp metal bit was fitted upon one of the wooden sticks, and the point dipped into the inkwell. After tapping the pen to dislodge excess ink, Momonga took a piece of the white paper and started to scratch on the surface much more cleanly than a quill. “This is incredible, Momonga-sama!”

“This device is a pen. A dip pen, to be more precise.” Momonga explained. “I summoned you here because you are the Chief Librarian. It is your job to prepare the stationery we use, as well as oversee the knowledge accumulated by us.”

“Yes, Momonga-sama!”

“You will agree with me, then, that it is a waste of parchment to use it for letters?”

“Yes, Momonga-sama!”

Momonga slid a few pieces of the white material to the Skeleton Mage. “This is paper. Here is written the instructions to construct paper, as well as additional instructions on how to make a dip pen. I wish for you to make more of them. Surely the Librarians of Ashurbanipal require writing materials as well. If we make enough, we will be able to market these new tools to sell, and thus accumulate an additional income.”

“I understand, Momonga-sama!” Titus spoke in awe. “We will not fail Nazarick!”

“Very good, Titus!” boomed the Supreme Being that Titus works for. “You may requisition whatever materials you need. See if this paper will be able to replace parchment in making magic scrolls as well.”

“Yes, Momonga-sama!” Titus nodded, clutching the new material for writing to study the recipe. “Momonga-sama, why is there another recipe for ink? Is Momonga-sama not satisfied?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot.” Momonga picked up the strange stick with the pointy end, which Titus now realised was another form of a dip pen. “This device requires its own ink, but it is worth the convenience. Now, let me introduce the pen with its own inkwell; the fountain pen.”

* * *

_~`*'~_

〇月 ✕日

_Dear Kaiō Michiru-san,_

_Thank you very much for the writing-box. It is an impressive piece of workmanship, especially considering that your Guild had had it made only three days ago. I especially love the convenient and durable_ kabura _pen nibs you sent to me. I love them so much, I have asked an NPC to construct them post-haste, along with more paper. Our letters might have to be written in A5 at the moment, but it is so good to write so smoothly! The Gelatinous Cube is also a great help, since I have already made five ink blots that required its help._

_As to your plan, I cannot say that I approve of grand larceny in the context of raiding the Empire. I have heard of the Baharuth Empire from my corner of the world, and raiding it might prove a difficult proposition. Be safe. If anyone can do it, you can. About the meeting of our agents, I have sent Sebastian to Re-Estize. I trust that your agent is making his way there already. They will carry our messages as the leaders of our respective guilds, to formally form the alliance of Ainz Ooal Gown and Hostis Humani Generis._

_As for myself, I am also performing reconnaissance in between my role as an Adventurer. I confess that sending my Guardians out on missions also places undue strain on myself, and beg your advice on how to earn money. I currently require a way to earn money that pays off quickly, without ruining my reputation._

_Michiru-san, I am desperate, and, waiting for your reply. I am,_

_Yours,_

_Suzuki Satoru_

_~`*'~_

* * *

Captain Femel arc Vers Envers, Knight Order of the Classis of the Baharuth Empire, stood aboard the cog  _Greenheart_  as it drifted against the flow of the Lisia River. The Lisia River cut through the Baharuth Empire from its flow from the Azerlisia Mountains down to the sea, and it touched upon the great capital Arwintar as well. It was natural that taking a route along the river was the most obvious way to Arwintar, bypassing the dangers of land for the turgid waters of the Lisia.

“How on earth,” asked the sailor, “are we sailing against the current and wind?”

With both hands on the rigging to hang a piece of dyed marbled-paper from it, Sycorax shrugged. Her hair, bond up into a long scorpion braid down her back, was currently looped around her neck. “Tacking.”

“You are an excellent sailor,” said he. “I notice that this vessel is made of wood, by the way.”

“Yes, well, sailing up in a frozen ship is bound to draw too much attention,” Sycorax commented, letting the line slack in her hands. The rigging hung down, the paper hanging upon it drying in the sun. “I hope Caliban is alright, though... Nereus, do you think Caliban can manage?”

“Caliban has a「Message」scroll,” Nereus pointed out, tugging the hems of his leggings into his boots, which were a Legendary-class artefact called「Dobharchú」. “He'll be fine. Just trust that he won't get lost.”

“What if he slices things?” Sycorax fretted as she tugged the stern-rudder to another side. The sails being tugged shut already, the boat slowly began to cut another diagonal course across the span of the Lisia under Sycorax's direction.

“He's... hopefully not going to do that,” Nereus lamely finished.

“What are you talking about?” asked Femel.

“I worry for Caliban,” Sycorax confessed. “What if he gets lost?”

“The young swordsman, right?” Femel shrugged. “He looks like he can take care of himself, and he's travelling to Re-Estize with Gazef Stronoff. What could possibly go wrong?”

“So many things,” Sycorax commented as she walked to the open bridge. The  _Greenheart_  might not be composed of everlasting ice, or big enough to merit a grand cabin, but like all ships of the Fleet, it bore an ensign of the Fleet colours of black and white next to generic sails. “So many things.”

Femel's lips twisted as he tapped the small cabin. “I've never seen this wood before for ships,” he started. “Usually I see ships made of pine.”

“Greenheart wood.” Sycorax simply stated. Lovingly, Sycorax traced the gunwales of the cog, smelling the varnished greenheart wood taken from the forests of Ironwood in Midgard. Deceptively, what might have been the weakest server of the Nine Worlds in YGGDRASIL had actually contained a forest of high-level trolls and wolves.

The boat had been packed with the _Spruce_ beforehand. Not counting the ships of the line, the Fleet could probably field a significant number of smaller ships in a pinch.

“Greenheart?” Femel echoed.

Above his head, a raven swooped down, narrowly impaling the back of his skull. The raven alighted in a hairpin barrel roll, dropping an envelope at Sycorax's feet.

“Yes. Extremely durable. Difficult to work with, but a ship made of greenheart will endure for fifty years on the high seas.” The guild had had to procure a special set of adamantite tools, simply to work with greenheart wood, she recalled as she picked up her correspondence. That had been a nightmare. “So, we will follow the river to Arwintar. And hopefully, by the time we get back Caliban is alright and we don't have to rush across the mountains. Now, Captain Envers. Are we there yet?”

* * *

“No.”

Gazef Stronoff's reply caused Caliban to look away. Riding on a destrier, Caliban managed to fall back as well, the better to avoid Gazef, despite both his hands being not on the warhorse's reins but on one great sheathed sword.

“Hmph.”

“What's with that?” spoke one of the armoured men. “Our Captain was kind enough to answer your question, pirate! Show some respect! You want to fight?”

“Now, Device,” Gazef intervened. “It's alright. Sir Caliban is-”

“-not going to fight you.” Caliban's blue eyes looked down, and the horse fell back farther to the rear of the team of men on horseback. “Admiral said so.”

“Captain?” one of the armoured cavalry serving under Gazef whispered. “Are you sure we should... do this?”

“I owe his mistress.” Gazef's reply was firm. “Sycorax has business in Re-Estize that she cannot attend to personally. She sent Caliban, and she called in the favour I owed her to get him to the capital.”

“But... what if they're involved with the Six Arms?” the soldier hissed, unwilling to be overheard by the sulking man. “We can't knowingly bring criminals into the capital, sir! And a pirate at that...”

“Piracy is hard to prove,” Gazef replied. “Granted, nobody believed that any human could perform raids in the waters controlled by the Agrand Council Alliance, but it seems like we were wrong. I have no idea what is wrong here, but I do know that there is a fine difference between a _pirate_ and a _privateer_.”

“A... mercenary?” The soldier repeated. “The crazy woman who turned five Fishmen into stone, become a soldier of fortune? For the King? How strong can she be?”

“There is no need to decide on that, because she is not an adventurer.” Gazef declared. “She is a pirate, yes. She is a criminal of the seas. But she is a pirate interested in Re-Ulovale, with the power and magic of an Adventurer but not under the rules of the Guild. If she can be persuaded by the profits of becoming a war hero, then we win.”

The soldier blinked at his captain, aghast. “But... the Kingdom,” he protested. “A foreign woman. This is crazy.”

“We must be on our guard anyway,” was Gazef's reply before a whistle sounded from the vanguard. “What? Enemies?”

“Ogres!” came the cry.

“And we've just gone past the fort...” Gazef realised. “Get yourselves together! We'll kill them here!”

“Sir, the pirate's getting away!”

“What? Sir Caliban, stay here!” But only a reined warhorse was there when Gazef turned his head. The Warrior-Captain blinked, before a breeze caused him to look up to the silhouette of a human form against the greyed clouds of the skies. The Ogres, three large warriors, and five attendant Goblins, came into view as Caliban fell down to earth, landing on his feet and an outstretched hand.

Caliban stood back up. He was holding a small blade. As the blade clicked back into its sheath, the Ogres and Goblins fell down with cut-off screams of fear and horror. Some of the armoured men gasped as Caliban strode back to the warhorse.

“Admiral said not to fight you until I reach the city,” Caliban sniffed as his horse turned around. “Never said anything about others.”

“Unbelievable...” spoke Device in hushed, awed tones. “Eight fatalities...”

“Erm...” Gazef swallowed at the sight of the butchered monsters, before he realised something. “Wait, Sir Caliban! You're going the wrong way!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kabura Pen: These pen nibs have a spoon-like shape. The kabura pen was once used for writing letters in the old days. Since it is stiffer and less flexible, the kabura pen cannot produce a very thick line. It is suitable for beginners to practice with. It is still used to draw manga.
> 
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!


	11. X: Black Flag

 

「I am so bored, and it's so cold, and I think one of my nipples fell off-」

「Michiru-san! Don't _tell_ me that! 」

「What, like your Lich body would even let you get too affected by this. Being part-snake is hell in the north! Why is the sea in the north?!」

「Erm...By the way, that writing-box really helped! The Guild-masters of the Adventurer Guild and the Magic Caster Guild all want one! And our pharmacists want some pens too... especially the fountain pens. My former party-mates wanted some too...」

「Pharmacists? I didn't know that Ainz Ooal Gown had any significant Alchemists. Tabula Smaragdina himself specialised in transmutation, not pharmaceuticals.」

「Michiru-san. How did you know that?」

「I was an information broker, Satoru-san. My speciality might be in dungeon maps, but don't think I don't listen to gossip. We of Hostis Humani Generis got our start in the trading business, after all. How else was I able to get the materials for your 「Book of the Dead」? And, what do you mean you former party-mates? The humans? What happened to them while I was sailing up-river?」

「Ah, I didn't think about that... they died. I'm avenging them right now.」

「Right... I'm going to overlook that, and I think we can come to an accord that we're going to overlook most crimes that the other person is doing, am I correct?」

「Let's go with that, Michiru-san. So, any hopefully legal methods to earn a lot of money in a short time?」

「Hmm... Satoru-san, how many NPCs can you afford to spare to run a small shop?」

「Are you sure there's no way to continue this without using money?」

「If you don't have money, use someone else's money as the start-up investment. It's time to brush off those salary-man skills to ask for a loan.」

「But who can I ask for a loan? And what could we do? It's tough for me to admit it, but you have much more experience in crafting goods than anyone in Nazarick. We really need goods to sustain the Great Tomb...」

「I see. Well, one method is real estate. Do you remember when my guild took over the Fyris Wolds, Satoru-san? It was difficult to defend, but over nine months we earned over nine million gold coins. In tolls alone. That was the GDP I calculated for the bidding war between Seraphim and Trinity.」

「THAT MUCH? LET'S DO THAT! Wait, you brokered an auction between  _Trinity_ and  _Seraphim_?! 」

「Seraphim won. We got three million gold from that transaction. The Fyris Wolds ultimately got swallowed up in that final throw-down between World Searcher, Trinity and 2ch Union, but such is real estate. The problem is that we invested four million to start with in the design and rebuilding of the small city, so it's a high-investment thing with great pay-off.」

「I don't have much land...」

「And it won't work in a medieval economy like this world.」

「SAY SO EARLIER!」

「You could still angle for a land grab, but medieval economies tend to rule that all land is under the enclosure of the Crown or a noble, so unless you could sprout a family book or something to grab an estate, it's not happening, plus cities are notoriously expensive to fortify on land. The Fyris Wolds were an island, hence it was simpler.」

「I'll take your word for it.」

「We need time to amass resources if we can scour the earth for our comrades. We also need information, which is the true basis of power. And we need territory if we're going up against these human countries. I'm looking at the night skies here, ye gods.」

「You're slipping into your pirate guise, Michiru-san. And I can't actually get any territory right now, I'm trying to stop this rogue necromancer from overrunning a city with Undead. Not that I find myself having a problem with them...」

「Erm, since Undead have minimal wants and needs to survive, they make lousy customers overall, so yes, you need all the humans in E-Rantel intact and wanting your goods if you're going to earn money. Mm-hmm. I was thinking, you could get some iron, make more pen nibs, and then strike a deal with one of the merchants in E-Rantel to sell him some pen nibs. The literacy rate being low as it can be expected to be in a Middle-Ages Europe-like world, though, the market would be saturated pretty soon and you can really only sell so many nibs. Plus, the fact that there's no such thing as copyright in this time means that inventions are likely to be simply copied and reproduced. Of course, the technology needed to make pen nibs might be difficult given from what I noticed of the metallurgy in the cities-」

「Erm, someone's calling, AFK.」

“Ainz-sama? Are you alright?” Narberal Gamma of the Pleiades battle maids of Nazarick was asking. Distracted thus, Ainz quickly turned his attention outwards, away from the remnants of Clementine's crushed body.

“I am well, Narberal. There is an important Message I must entertain at the moment. Clean this place up.”

“My apologies for interrupting your important business, Ainz-sama.”

Momonga turned his attention back to 「Message.」「I'm back.」

「Did you seriously just send an AFK via Message? And how was the necromancer and the people who killed your party, just asking in passing?」

「 _Focus_. To answer, I killed both of them, and I don't feel too bad about it. 」

「I expected that, really. Do I need to contact Bardo Louvre about marketing the writing-box, then?」

「No, you're right. The people here aren't literate enough to appreciate it. Just the other day, I had to wait for the receptionist to manually count the twenty goblin ears I brought back and calculate the costs of two coppers per goblin ears.」

「Given the seventeen coppers for one silver coin, it's forty coppers. Two silver and six coppers.」

「Yes, and she couldn't even do _that_. I did what you advised me to and watched the merchants of E-Rantel going about their business. They close strictly at sundown, and they count by hand and they do their business in taverns. I would also like to add that this feels like stalking. 」

「If that's the case... tomorrow morning, I'm going to send Huginn besides Bran when he delivers our crow-mail. Huginn is going to keep a bird's eye view of E-Rantel and the surrounds when you point out the merchants. Once I finish my stuff in Arwintar, I'm going to come over to E-Rantel post-haste.」

「I will gladly roll out the red carpet once you get here, Michiru-san. But I don't see how your presence would change the fact that Nazarick's missions are draining our non-existent funds.」

「I made a thousand gold coins from selling salt, and far more from other things. That was just one trip. And before that, I leveraged a three-way auction between the top guilds of YGGDRASIL even when Hostis Humani Generis was considered a mid-tier guild. Satoru-san, I am probably way ahead of you.」

「Fair enough.」

「Meanwhile, you are going to help me woo the Merchants of E-Rantel by proxy. Find a small metal frame, a collection of beads, and start making an abacus. We're going to attract their attention with a counting board before I use you to establish a mutually beneficial trading connection. The commission fee might not be much, but the point is to include Nazarick or Carne Village products – including your _pharmacists_ – into this trade relationship. 」

「That is brilliant. But, why an abacus?」

「Literacy and numeracy are two different things, but a Merchant depends on calculations to survive. The best way to prove that we can be trusted is to hook him in with a product useful to him.」

「I'll do that. We're going to have so much fun, but... why do you know so much about the economy, Michiru-san?」

「I read a lot of books, Satoru-san. And you forget, this was my job in YGGDRASIL. I am a Pirate. 」

「OK then. Good night, Michiru-san.」

「Good night, Satoru-san.」

Sycorax mentally terminated the Message, and started another one. Surprisingly, this one opened with:

   
「 _The captain of the lugger  
Was known as a filthy bugger,  
Declared unfit to shovel shit  
__f_ _rom one pile to another-_ 」  
 

「...Ariel.」

「OH. A- Admiral, I can explain.」

「DON'T. Sit rep. Has Nagato reported in?」

「Yep. Nagato and Mutsu reported all clear for the fleet's operations. Caliban... is fine... for a given value of fine... since he seems to be confused about which direction is north.」

Sycorax scratched her head. 「I was afraid of that. Are you arguing with Phaeton?」

「...Yes, ma'am.」

「Well, solve it. Singing 'Good Ship Venus' is not the best way to convince the Second Division that their Commander hasn't gone round the bend.」 _This is, I suppose, the best way to ensure that this is not YGGDRASIL, since the lyrics for 'Friggin' In the Riggin' didn't even make it past the censors when we coded them_ _in_ _._

「Yes, Admiral!」

「Now, then. What's the party status?」

* * *

Ariel swooped down, catching a ratline to swing and land on the quarterdeck. He interrupted a band of Skeletal Bards.

“Oh my, Commander Ariel,” the Fleet Grand Conductor's teeth clacked together, pulling her stiff collar straight. The effect of the skeleton wearing a dark military jacket and silver epaulettes bearing the Admiralty coat of arms was somewhat lost in the afro that adorned the skeleton's head. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Sorry, Conductor Squelette. Intermission!” Ariel called, towards the Fishmen ratings and other officers, who had been dancing midway through 'Fifteen Men on a Dead Man's Chest'. “The Admiral called! She's safe! She's also bored silly, but she's safe!”

The  _Queen of the Night_ 's decks creaked with the numerous leaps of joy, and her riggings vibrated with the cries of gratitude.

“Now then!” Ariel cried out. “For Nereus, Caliban and our Fleet Admiral Sycorax! 'Tis better by far to live by the sea than be a landlubber! And I mean that by you, Phaeton!”

The Birdman's squawk was swallowed in the band's opening bars, before any further words were swallowed by the conductor's deep tenor:

  __  
Oh, better far to live and die  
Under the brave black flag I fly,  
Than play a sanctimonious part,  
With a pirate head and a pirate heart!

 _Away to the cheating world go you,_  
Where pirates all are well-to-do!  
But I'll be true to the song I sing,  
And live and die a Pirate King!

 _For I am a Pirate King!_  
And it is, it is a glorious thing,  
To be a Pirate King!  
 

* * *

  __  
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,  
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,  
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,  
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking...!  
 

It was directly before sunrise that Femel arc Vers Envers blinked at the lightening sky. No, that was incorrect; he had been unable to sleep all night, the veil of darkness inviting paranoia and suspicion of the white-haired witch and her dark thief. Even pinned as he was on the small deck of the riverboat, it was the song that broke his trance.

“And a good morning to you too, Captain Envers.”

“Gods!” Femel jumped at Nereus' voice behind him. “Do you ever sleep?”

The Thief smiled at the human. Nereus forbore to mention that he had a ring that prevented the Fatigue and Hunger status conditions. “Water?”

Warily, Femel accepted the proffered water-skin and drank, glancing at it to Nereus. “Where do you fill the barrels?”

“Now that's a terrible question to ask.” Nereus teased. “From a village in the Kingdom, if it eases your mind.”

  __  
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide  
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied,  
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,  
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying...  
 

“ _Sea Fever_ ,” Nereus murmured at the plaintive, lost voice the words were couched in. “I do not think the Admiral likes being away from the seas.”

Femel nodded. “Some men in Venetus cannot get away from the sea. It makes the situation with the Agrand unbearable for them.”

“Neither can you, I imagine.” Nereus commented as the song slowly drifted to an end.

  __  
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,  
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;  
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,  
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over...  
 

A breeze rippled the waters of the Lisia River. Femel knew that the Lisia River and its sister the Azer intersected at Florentus, the next city before Arwintar. He could only smell the wood-smoke that drifted about already...

Wait.

He turned around.

Above the cabin on the weather-deck, Sycorax was indeed watching a pot on a clay stove. Her silver hair, usually left loose, was bound up with two sticks into a style that made her hair flip out like the edges of a hand fan low on her neck, the better to show off under the broad-brimmed hat which she wore.

“What are you _doing_?!” Femel protested. “This is a wooden ship!”

“Breakfast,” Sycorax shrugged, stirring the pot. “I fished a trout from the waters. And to answer,” she lifted the pot, and a blue fireball floated out. “This is a summon,「Naga Light」. It won't set our ship on fire.”

“...Magic.” Femel's lips pressed together. “And what will you do with it once the stove is done?”

“Maybe I'll put it in a lantern,” Sycorax teased, beckoning the fireball to hover around the level of her hands, which she diverted into a metal lantern. The grille of the lantern closed, trapping the fireball within, at which she hung the lantern on a hook by the small cabin. “See?”

“Summons.” Femel echoed the word. He had forgotten, of course, the arcane magics the woman possessed. His relative freedom aside, Venetus was hardly safe if he escaped. Able Seaman Chicory had failed to safeguard any secrets from her, even in his death. “I see. You will use these summons in Arwintar.”

“Not really. It's more like they were convenient.” Sycorax opened the pot to blow at the hot cooked oats within before setting the mixture back onto the stove. A lost look drifted across her face, as if her head was elsewhere. “Sugar?”

“You have sugar of lead?”

Sycorax choked, a glass jar containing a suspended honeycomb in her hands. Her eye flicked towards Femel, wide with shock. “That stuff will drive you nuts.”

“Ah.” Femel took that advice seriously. “May I have a trencher?”

Sycorax blinked. She sat down cross-legged, next to the stove. The glass jar and its undoubtedly precious contents was set onto the deck, between her covered thighs. A bowl appeared in her hands, drawn from... somewhere, Femel did not care to speculate.

The pot was tipped over, and the bowl filled before Sycorax set it back and pulled open the jar. A dab of honey dripped onto his bowl, and into one more, before the jar was closed and disappeared into a black hole. Sycorax pushed the filled bowl towards Femel. She filled the bowl, and then the other bowl, and she blinked. The jar made another appearance, the honey this time going into the pot before the jar returned whence it came.

“Admiral, good morning-” Nereus cut off, staring as Sycorax used the pot as her bowl. “Admiral! I- I can eat from the pot! There's no need to lower yourself to such a thing!”

“My ship, my cookware, my meal.” Sycorax murmured, her expression lost.

“My dear Admiral,” Nereus sighed, “You are precious to us. So... let us deal with this.”

“Of course you're dealing with this. It's breakfast.”

Femel felt the boat rocking, as well as a thud. He whirled around, the bowl dropping from his hands as he quickly grabbed at his belt, and then blinked at the river pirates. “S- Shit-!”

“Don't waste food,” Sycorax scolded, whether ignorant or uncaring of the men that had boarded the  _Greenheart_. “Food's getting cold, Nereus.”

Nereus dived across the Greenheart, crossing the ten metres in a flash to stand before the leader of the boarding party. A knife flashed in his hand as he unseamed the other man in the breastbone, pulling out a still-beating heart to bite and gnaw in front of the horrified river-bandits.

“We're a bit lacking in provisions,” said Nereus to one horrified man in particular, “but I will _not_ serve you all alike if you  _get off the boat now_.”

Three splashes resounded across the Lisia River. The last man, the one whose heart was still being consumed, gaped and froze in terror before his body was tipped overboard by a brush of Nereus' fingers from the hand not holding the heart.

Silently, Sycorax handed her subordinate the wooden bowl. “Does that add flavour to the oats?”

“I don't actually eat the heart, but the lungs were too deep and you never know what's been in their stomachs,” Nereus explained, spitting in disgust and tossing the heart into the river. “It's the fastest and most effective. I can eat hearts though; just... It's the inconvenience of the Sidhe.”

“I understand. Emulating the pirate L'Olonnais,” Sycorax nodded grimly. “Effective. Let's hope that we don't meet them in the next town, since you left them alive.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Femel's teeth kept chattering. “Y- You just... that man's heart... and...”

Nereus blinked, absently licking the blood from his bare palms before starting on the oats. “Admiral said the food was getting cold.”

“And now I have a letter to write. Nereus, take the watch.” Sycorax sighed, distracted as a breeze ruffled her hair.

Femel dropped his bowl as Sycorax entered the tiny cabin. Neither pirate reacted as the oats spilled onto the planks, nor did they flinch as Femel's knees joined them.

* * *

~'✵'~

_Lisia River  
Baharuth Empire_

_Suzuki Satoru-san,_

_I got a ping from Huginn about a World Item in this world at the same time that Nereus killed a man by eating his heart in front of him._

_Wait, that came out wrong. I am much more affected than I show it. I am sorry, this is all over the place. I would like to know if you possess the World Item_ _「_ _Downfall of Castle and Country_ _」_ _, in which case Huginn has a false alarm, or else we will need to discuss what to do about this prospective threat. Message me immediately on receipt._

_Sincerely,  
Kaiō Michiru_

~'✵'~

* * *

_**The Flirtatious Undersea Cavalry** _

_**LV: 100** _

_**• Race LV 25** _

_**○ Kelpie LV 15** _

_**○ Hippocampus LV 5** _

_**○ High Sidhe LV 5** _

_**• Job LV 75** _

_**○ Pirate LV 15** _

_**○ Assassin LV 15** _

_**○ Master Assassin LV 10** _

_**○ Cavalry LV 10** _

_**○ Savateur LV 3** _

_**○ Sailor LV 7** _

_**○ Etc (15)** _

_** Ability Chart ** _

_**HP: 90** _

_**MP: 40** _

_**PHY. ATK: 95** _

_**PHY. DEF: 50** _

_**AGILITY: 100** _

_**MAG. ATK: 30** _

_**MAG. DEF: 71** _

_**RESIST: 80** _

_**SPECIAL: 80** _


	12. XI: Before the Mast

 

Amateurs study tactics. Veterans study strategy. Professionals study logistics.

Ainz Ooal Gown, being geared to Player-Kill, had always taken care of the auxiliary guilds willing to do business with them. Even the guild Strategist, Punitto Moe, had acknowledged that Hostis Humani Generis merited protection despite conducting business with human and demi-human players, by virtue of always giving Ainz Ooal Gown big discounts on bulk orders.

It was partly with this mindset in mind, along with actually caring for Sycorax, that Momonga entertained receiving her Message in the middle of his Adventurer guise. Momonga had to admit to feeling confused by Sycorax's sudden「Message」. It took reading Sycorax's hurriedly penned missive delivered by crow before his own 「Message」was flying across the continent.

「Are you alright?!」

「I'm... fine. I think. Satoru-san. I just saw my subordinate scare off a few river pirates, and then the World Item... and my thoughts aren't organised.」

「There is a WORLD ITEM here?! With HUMANS?」

「'Downfall of Castle and Country'. According to the known register of World Items, it bypasses mental control checks to control characters. It was last seen as a reward for a Legion quest – you know, the kind of quest that needs six parties of six on one boss.」

「I know that! The Razed Bronze Age Update... hey, didn't you own that before?」

「Hostis Humani Generis is classified as communal property, Satoru-san.」

「Yes, but you guys had it before the World Martial Tournament happened and World Searcher used a totally broken Thief strategy- ahem. Anyway. It bypasses _all_ mental checks? 」

「Yes. The disadvantage is that the wearer – singular – has to be essentially unarmed, and at minimum thirty levels lower than the chosen target.」

「Which makes it especially hard to escort the wearer through a dungeon, but doable assuming that overpowered players don't aggro NPCs. Simply provide bodyguards to key players would disrupt that strategy... Thanks, Sycorax-san!」

「We are friends. Ainz Ooal Gown and Hostis Humani Generis has cooperated before. On that Seven Demon Kings of Sin quest, I think...」

「I think it was slightly more than that, but yes. How... do you feel?」

「I'm not the one within radius of an unknown World Item. I thought you'd ask about how I knew about the World Item.」

「Crows. I may not be as academically intelligent as you, Michiru-san, but I do know the legends of Huginn and Muninn. The one-of-a-kind Othinus class was probably involved as well.」

「You shouldn't put yourself down, Satoru-san. I put myself working through university and continuing education for forty years.」

「...how old are you, Michiru-san? If you don't mind my question...」

「....................................」

「 KAI Ō MICHIRU-SAN!!!  ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! 」

「...You're not supposed to ask for a woman's age, Satoru-san. You're terrible.」

「Urk! Don't scare me, Michiru-san! I thought you were... anyway, I'm twenty-nine... Don't worry, Ainz Ooal Gown had a university professor as a member! Middle-aged people can still be players, you know! He's still very good at forty! And, Touch Me-san has a wife and kids!」

「I know. Touch Me-san is our custody officer IRL. That was years ago when he was a newbie.」

「Ah... Touch Me-san is a police officer? You learn something new everyday... when Touch Me-san was a _newbie_?! 」

「He started in Juvenile Crime. So he told me.」

「I'm so stunned, I can't express it in words. Why were you in Juvenile Crime...? Don't tell me, you're a... juvenile? That makes your commitment not to use Cash Items all the more understandable, really! Unlike us...」

Actually, it probably made Touch Me's rejection all the more understandable. Ainz Ooal Gown only contained working adults.

「I'm a grown adult, Satoru-san. DMMO-RPGs mandate strict age limits, remember? Cracking or an emulator isn't worth the damage done to the neuro-nano-interface, or the potential brain damage. That's... an interesting question.」

「...huh?」

「Well, we are the only two people from our world. How would we test that this world is not a paracosm of our collected imagination, when all our sensory data is rooted in this reality? It's an extension of the Plato cave allegory. There is no way to test if we're being trapped in our own minds or not. What if this is... this is all just- not real? If this is just our desire to keep on playing, and the neuro-nano-interface just... facilitated that?」

「...that might be true. Or that might be false as well. But I do know that you and I are here, and you are scared, and I can only listen to you from far away.」

Outside the latrines that the master of Nazarick was hiding inside, Narberal Gamma's jaw was set as she stood guard behind the Adventurer Guild building of E-Rantel. The master had been inside for a rather long time amongst the filth within, but it was not her place to intervene. Not without explicit summons from Momonga, lest she risk the Supreme Being's wrath for interrupting his... private affairs.

「Michiru-san. We are friends, before we ever knew anything about each other.」Momonga honestly replied. The emotional suppression never kicked in as he simply told the truth. 「Even if the neuro-nano-interface broke, and we were trapped in our collective imaginations, this friendship online, that has lasted twelve years, cannot be false. The NPCs and structures built by our friends cannot be false. And your discovery of Kiribachi means that, somewhere across this wide, unexplored world, our friends still live.」

「...oh. Right.」Sycorax blinked, staring at the ceiling of the  _Greenheart_ cabin from her position. 「What was I thinking? One must always remain calm in times of crisis. Cool heads will prevail. All of my worries are insignificant right now! Satoru-san... thanks.」

「Yeah. I'm bad with women, so...」

「I think you're fine. Officer Oki- I mean, Touch Me-san, he was way more awkward. He kept on stuttering and tripping when I was talking to him.」

「Oh? Now I want to know that story...」

「I'm a librarian at the NDA in Yokosuka. My grandson is... the rough sort, and I bailed him out under Touch Me-san's supervision. He also plays YGGDRASIL, but I don't know if he knows that his grandmother also plays the game...」

「Does Touch Me-san know? Which guild is your... _grandson_? 」

「...your guild.」

「... you're older than me...? You're even older than Shijuuten Suzaku-san...」

「Physically, right now in my avatar I'm younger than you, Satoru-san! And I'm just glad that there are Golden Apples. My grandson never really recognised me. My avatar used my real face when I was young, so I guess...」

「Er.」

「You're sounding like an old lady, Michiru-san. So... who is it?」

「Hmm?」

「Your... _grandson_. 」

「Nanase Ryo. I haven't seen him in a long time. So each moment in-game alongside Ainz Ooal Gown was actually great.」

「I don't know his real name. Online handle?」

「Punitto Moe.」

… _Punitto Moe-san's grandmother? No wonder he never said anything about his life outside._

_..that guy was a delinquent? Whoa, talk about a dark history..._

_.Wait a second-_

_You're wrong, Michiru-san! Your grandson not only knew you played the game, he went out of his way to include you into this guild that rejected you! Touch Me-san rejecting you all those ten times was probably because you terrified him to bits!_

「He really admired you, Michiru-san.」

「Eh?」

「Punitto Moe-san. He was dead-set that the guild never attacked Hostis Humani Generis. You were probably the only person he respected.」 _And if the guild's Zhuge Kongming decided so, very few people rebutted it._ _He probably learnt everything from you..._ _except how to make friends._

「Oh? I personally admired you, Satoru-san」

「Eh?」

「Yes. From Nine's Own Goal to Ainz Ooal Gown, thank you for saving my grandson.」

“Momon-san.” Narberal greeted Momonga as he finally left. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. I was having a conversation with Sycorax-san.” Momonga cheerfully replied. “I feel much better after talking to her, for some reason. She's quite wonderful, you know?”

Narberal kept her face blank. Underneath, she was furiously planning how to break the news to Albedo and Shalltear. “I see.”

“Anyway, Nabe. All missions are to be recalled to Nazarick immediately. Transmit the news. There is the threat of a World Item.”

“Understood, Momon-sa...n. I hear and obey.” Nabe hesitated. “I- Is there a particular reason to trust this Sycorax?”

“Hmm?” Momon stopped to look at Narberal.

The battle-maid in disguise kept her gaze low. “Yes. The one who goes by the name of Sycorax had been rejected by the Forty-One Supreme Beings ten times. She might have a grudge against Nazarick.”

“Ah, that's not true.” Momon added. “Sycorax is Punitto Moe-san's grandmother.”

“Grand...mother?” Narberal repeated.

“Hmm...” Momonga paused, trying to gather his words. “She created the ones who created Punitto Moe-san. Does that clarify things?”

Narberal froze. “The great strategist of Ainz Ooal Gown, Punitto Moe-sama... was created by this... lower life form-”

“Narberal.” The censure in her name prevented Narberal Gamma from completing that sentence. “Sycorax-san is an equal of the Supreme Beings, respected by all of us. I will not let off those who insult her. Understood?”

“Y- Yes! I will keep Sycorax... Sycorax-sama's elevation of status in mind.” Narberal grimaced. “Will Sycorax-sama be arriving soon? Nazarick's queen should remain close at hand.”

“...queen?” Momonga considered. “Perhaps we will meet soon. I will ask her then.”

“...Yes.”

* * *

Gauzy pink chiffon veils were violently torn from their hangings as Shalltear screamed. “This is impossible!”

The sound of women laughing and moaning lewdly carried over from the distance, but Shalltear's screams continued to echo about her private quarters. The erotic atmosphere of the room had been shattered, both by its main occupant and the Vampire Brides running around frantically after their mistress dropped a teacup.

Seated across Shalltear, Albedo's nose wrinkled. “We expected that this Sycorax would become our rival. However, neither of us could have thought, that we had lost before the contest had even begun...” The teacup in her hands shattered.

“And, to imply that Punitto Moe-sama was created by this Sycorax!” Albedo continued, flames metaphorically pouring from her lips. “This is blasphemy! Narberal Gamma must have misheard!”

“No. Narberal Gamma could not possibly have misheard our lord and master.” Shalltear glared sullenly at the broken cups. “The Supreme Beings must obviously reproduce amongst themselves. After all, it’s normal for a great man to claim many women for himself. It would be surprising if any woman could resist an amazing man like Ainz-sama. Unlike we, who are only creations of the Supreme Beings, this Sycorax-sama is a being equal to our creators simply by virtue of birth.”

“Our lord must be mistaken!” Albedo exclaimed. “The man I love could not possibly...!”

“... no, we have not lost yet.” Shalltear swallowed. “We should not have expected the position of Ainz-sama's first wife to be anything less than the best available. And, since Ainz-sama's words are true, then Sycorax-sama becomes the only option to become Ainz-sama's Queen.”

“That's...”

“However, being the Queen does not mean that Sycorax will become his favourite.” Shalltear giggled as the realisation came to her. “Furthermore... if the Queen is not _here_ to serve Ainz-sama... it obviously falls to his favourite to carry out all conjugal duties~!”

“I see... you bitch, already planning ahead...” Albedo wrung her gloved hands. “I will be the one to become Ainz-sama's favourite!”

On the combined fifth and sixth level of Nazarick, Demiurge was busy reviewing his plans. “A being equal to the Supreme Ones, who created Punitto Moe-sama... and she is to become queen? Ainz-sama has already planned to ask her?”

“So. It. Would. Seem.” Cold air vented from Cocytus as he spoke.

“Is this another plan of our lord Ainz?” Demiurge frowned. “No... if such an entity exists, then... perhaps... Ashurbanipal must have records! We must find out immediately what kind of being is this Sycorax! What kind of forces she must command in the enemy of humanity, Hostis Humani Generis!”

* * *

Across the Kingdom of Re-Estize, one of Hostis Humani Generis' powerhouses lay in a hot seawater bath in the orlop deck of the  _Queen of the Night_. Idly, Nagato reclined in her bath, soaking in the luxurious hot water charged with magic and reflecting on her origins as she peered at the frosted ice sides of the ship.

The Automaton, as a racial class, was unique in the fact that they were magically powered, but made for physical combat. There was, however, an even stronger sub-class of Automaton that surpassed the Homunculi and the Androids, existing as a cross between the Tsukumogami and the Automatons; the Ship Girl. Doubling as conveyance and combat unit, known in lore as warships reincarnated into a sentient form, the materials needed were of such a large scale and purity that they were rarely seen, much less deployed, in-game. In exchange, those who could field a Ship Girl was practically guaranteed a mobile fortress.

Once upon a time, the two YGGDRASIL guilds World Searcher and Hostis Humani Generis had had a mini arms-race to build the Ship Girl. In the end, it was the programming genius Rear Admiral of the latter guild, in completing his masters thesis in computer graphics, who managed to craft what was possibly amongst the top-tier Ship Girl NPCs in the game:

The _Nagato_ -class.

The reincarnation of the Imperial Japanese Navy's last capital ship grimaced, even as another entity descended to sit next to her bathtub.

“Ara-ara? Is the Secretary Ship Nagato actually slacking off?”

“I'm off duty, Mutsu.” Nagato barely looked up at her sister Ship Girl. “As you continually remind me to.”

“Yes.” The brown-haired girl wearing a similar black-and-white cheerleader getup with a metal bodice and red knee-length socks nodded, the pagoda masts on her head bobbing like feelers. In her arms, she hugged a grumpy-looking grey cat. “Look! Earl Grey came over to see you.”

“That's because you're carrying him, Mutsu.” Nagato sighed. “How is the First Division?”

“The Nereids and the Blackfish Squadron are handling things.” Mutsu considered. “We can't actually deploy ourselves until a crisis. Until then, we are only building relations and resources. And minding our pets.”

“Cats and dogs are lucky mascots of the fleet.” Nagato replied. “Besides Earl Grey, there's Assam, Orange Pekoe, and Darjeeling, to name a few of the Cat Sidhe. The fleet's dogs are led by Lieutenants Arabica and Robusta. I'll be going to visit them now.”

“Oh?” Mutsu offered a towel as Nagato slowly clambered out, mindful of the ship swaying. “Let's go together then!”

The fleet ships were parked on a lagoon out in the North Sea, midway between Venetus and Corne's village. In the interest of fund-raising, some of the non-commissioned had decided to run goods across the borders and around the Azerlisia Mountains. The Fleet's submersible attack groups, the Nereids, were currently negotiating with the local Mermen to open fishing spots. Well, Nagato called it negotiating. Arms were surely involved.

The  _Sequoia_ , the Treasure Ship was moored at a position to be defended by the  _Queen of the Night_ 's broadside cannons. The main deck of the large junk was covered in racks, where vegetables grew and were fed with water and nutrients. Since soil aboard a ship was impractical and wasteful, Cutty Sark and Merry had planned such a system to make use of the  _Sequoia's_ unused main deck.

Standing under a rack covered in leafy green, Nagato closed her eyes and inhaled, a motion rendered stiff by the relative cold. Under her feet, the deck groaned. The rigging clacked in a slight breeze, as if the ship itself was sighing.

A Wraith appeared, dressed like a nun. “Quartermaster Nagato! Lieutenant Commander Mutsu!”

“Celeste. The mizzen course of broken.”

“Yes, ma'am! We'll fix it immediately!” The nun bowed and disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

“Nagato, you shouldn't frown,” Mutsu teased. “You'll scare even ghosts away.”

“Well, I can't help it!” Nagato considered. “I... might have overdone it...”

“Well, there's a way to fix that.” Mutsu pointed to the ratlines, easily mounting the web of rigging to get aloft. “Come on!”

Nagato blinked. Her foot stepped onto the main-mast. Mutsu watched as her sister walked vertically up the mast with a sway to her hips.

“Show-off.”

* * *

_ **Nagato: The Last Capital Ship Girl of the Rising Sun** _

**Quartermaster of the Fleet Flagship**

_**Great Cabin, Queen of the Night** _

_**LV: 100** _

_**• Race: LV 20** _

_**○ Automaton LV 15** _

_**○ Ship Girl LV 5** _

_**• Job: LV 80** _

_**○ Gunner LV 10** _

_**○ Sniper LV 10** _

_**○ Umbral LV 10** _

_**○ Artillery LV 10** _

_**○ Etc (40)** _

_ **Ability Chart** _

_**HP: 100 (MAX)** _

_**MP: 50 (Average)** _

_**PHY. ATK: 90 (Very High)** _

_**PHY. DEF: EXCEEDS LIMIT** _

_**AGILITY: 20 (Low)** _

_**MAG. ATK: 40 (Below Average)** _

_**MAG. DEF: 100 (MAX)** _

_**RESIST: EXCEEDS LIMIT** _

_**SPECIAL: 40** _


	13. XII: Bilboes

 

“Are you insane?!” Femel hissed as he followed the bobbing of a feathered hat attached to a woman through the crowd at the port of Arwintar.

“I can certainly think of more ways to contribute to the Emperor's coffers,” mused Sycorax as the money-pouch of the harbour-master bounced in her hand. “The sponsorship of two pirates and a lost captain of a man-of-war included. Besides, call it a profit. I certainly doubt that two silver coins is the tax for the river harbour.”

“Oh, so you just pick his pocket after you're done bribing him!” Femel at least had the good sense to keep relatively unheard in the crowd. “Why did I even escort you here?”

“You certainly didn't, Captain Envers.” Sycorax's eye glimmered as she turned her head. Behind him, Nereus pressed forward, and Femel had a sudden flashback of the Thief tearing open a man's chest to eat a still-beating heart. “You are here as our hostage.”

“And now you've escorted me back to Arwintar, where I could report you to the rest of the Empire's Knight Orders.” Femel pointed out.

“Well, then you may toodle off and we'll be on our way.”

Femel blinked at her cavalier attitude. “I am an officer of the Empire, do you realise that?”

“You are the captain of a man-of-war, as you have stated.” Sycorax nodded in agreement, her body swaying with the adjustment of her sea legs. “You are the captain of the man-of-war I _sunk_ , I agree. However, let me ask you one question. Is it more likely that your ship was sunk by 「Control Weather」, which you stated is a legendary power, or that its captain was incapable?”

“It is a fact, witch.” Femel groused.

“For _you_ , dear captain. Bureaucrats, as you might know, have a distressing tendency to disbelieve anything too outré.” Sycorax winked as she led them down a busy paved street, admiring the city of stone as she skipped along her way. “I fear that your Empire is hardly concerned with sea power, given that your Knight Order of the Classis is new and woefully under-prepared. It is much easier to blame _you_ than it is to investigate _me_ , if you must know.  _Res ipsa loquitor_ , you will be blamed and executed for crashing the lovely  _Nazami Enec_  all on your onesies, and for desertion.”

Femel twitched. “Equity tempers the rigours of the common law.”

“Which is interesting, because given the contents of the Florentus Scriptorium, it's hardly equitable to depend on the mercy of your Emperor.” Sycorax chuckled, skipping across the paved road with Nereus trailing behind her. “If you insist, though, go on. Shoo! Off to the palace with you.”

Femel stared as the monstrous woman and her bodyguard disappeared into the throng of Arwintar's roads. He blinked down at the paved roads of the Imperial Capital, hardly daring to notice that every road had been bricked and stoned over. The roads in the capital were much fancier than anything in Florentus, being segregated into separate lanes where the centred two lanes were the driveways for carriages, and the lanes on the two sides were the side-walks for pedestrians. Venetus did not count – the city of canals could only be judged by its own standards. Street lights placed in sets on the side of the roads hung over his head, waiting for night to light up and provide illumination to the capital.

“Bloody hell,” Femel swore under his breath, checking over his tunic and grabbing at his belt for his seal of authority as a platoon of knights started marching down the road. “Hey! _Vigile Urbani_!”

The knights stopped. Their leader stepped up to Femel, doubtfully watching the other man. “Decanus Varius here.”

“Trierarchus Classicus Femel arc Vers Envers of the Knight Order of the Classis,” Femel gritted his teeth as he revealed his full rank. “I just arrived. I have important news for His Majesty now!”

“Sir!” Varius nodded quickly. “Trierarchus Envers, Please, follow me. We must see the  _legatus_ first _._ ”

Femel internally groaned, but nodded. “Of course.”

Watching the ten-man troop of knights march off from her view on top of a building, Sycorax fiddled with the long feather on her hat. “And now, only a drop of rum to make it perfect. Where is the rum, Nereus?”

“You drank it, Admiral,” Nereus dutifully replied.

“Ah.” Sycorax frowned. “Keep an eye on him. Trierarchus... make sure you find out that rank, if possible. If you must, you may use your skills. Make sure that our fleet's location remains... quiet. I will be investigating the Magic Caster Academy.”

“Eh?” Nereus blinked. “My Thief skills are necessary to break into the Grand Library...”

“But you won't be needed until I can case the joint. So the best thing is to make sure that our disguised Captain Envers says nothing, or is completely discredited, correct?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“To that end...” Sycorax put her hand into a black portal, and pulled out a crystal vial of a blue liquid. “This is an extract of「Blue Angel」, a hallucinogen, rendered tasteless by Cutty Sark's processes. You get to dose him if he drinks anything.”

“Duly noted.” Nereus accepted the vial with a doubtful look. “I thought 「Blue Angel」was bitter.”

“You _don't_ want to know what Cutty did to it.”

Nereus nodded in understanding. “Ah.” He faded out of sight as Sycorax stood up and began to walk along the roof ledges towards the tallest building in Arwintar.

The capital of the Baharuth Empire, Arwintar, was located slightly to the west from the centre of the Empire. The Imperial Palace, home to the reigning monarch with the nickname of Blood Emperor, stood in the heart of the city. Surrounding the palace were the universities, the magic academy, various administrative offices and other important facilities which spread out in a radial fashion. Sycorax silently mapped the buildings in her head, her personal skill as a Scribe「Eagle Eye」already outlining the boundaries of the city and more useful information.

The buildings grew further and further apart, and they seemed much cleaner as she walked towards the palace, hence she leapt into a random cart of hay that had stopped by another building. As more and more people in robe carrying staves were congregating towards one building under the weak late morning sun, Sycorax pushed aside some hay to discreetly look at their destination.

Thick, high walls with several watchtowers overlooking them reached up. Multiple knights accompanied with staff-wielding magic casters patrolled around. Sycorax looked up, counting more people guarding the walls, and armoured people mounted on flying beasts, along with high-level magic casters using Flight magic.

“Well, books are worth their weight in gold, but surely a normal library doesn't need its own army to safeguard.” Sycorax muttered. “Huginn, show me.”

Hovering above the battlements of the walls, a crow landed with a click, before taking to the skies. Unknown to the knights and magic casters milling around, what it saw was being transmitted to its mistress.

“That's a lot of books... and _that_ is interesting.” Sycorax noted. “Chaotic, non-chaotic, chaotic... is there a way to get in non-chaotically? Hmm... and why is there a girl walking there?”

The girl that had caught Sycorax's attention was best described as a young beauty. With an appearance between fifteen to seventeen years old, the girl possessed a face with delicate features and shoulder-long hair like gold. She was elegant but almost doll-like, that was Sycorax's impression. Her hands grasped an iron staff that was around the same height as herself, which was covered with symbols and runes so messy, Sycorax could not decide if they were words or pictures. The girl wore a loose robe, and under that, sturdy clothes which offered quite a bit of protection.

She was obviously a Magic Caster. Sycorax could already tell that; only Warriors could equip heavy armour, and staffs were the main weapons of Magic Casters. Though that was no guarantee alone, the runes on the staff solved it.

As a Sea Witch, Sycorax had been able to get by without equipping staffs. However, she needed a spear or pole-arm weapon to use super-tier magics like the Astras. Plus, having experience with a quarterstaff made up for the lack of power she had had in taking crafting job classes. Hostis Humani Generis had a reputation as a Lethal Joke Guild because of her, though quite a few of their Blacksmiths and Pharmacists had made really deadly ambushers as well...

Concentrating back onto the task, Sycorax nodded to herself as she clambered quietly out of the cart and dusted the hay away from her. Pulling a few stray strands from her hat, she made her way towards the girl, immediately collating any and all deductions she could figure out in those ten seconds.

“Good morning!” Arche Eeb Rile Furt jumped at the greeting being hissed in her ear. Looking up, she blinked at the lone green eye set in strong-boned features. The other eye was covered by a leather eye-patch set under a grey broad-brimmed hat set with a long-plumed brown feather in its brim. The woman was dressed in a linen shirt held together at the front with odd lumps, a belt with a dagger, and sturdy leggings that fed into mid-calf leather boots. “I'm sorry, I seem to be lost. Could you show me around? I need to get to the library!”

“T- The northern market?” Arche stuttered in the presence of this woman. Unknown to her, Sycorax's personal ability 「Scylla and Charybdis」was already taking effect, inducing the Terror state and messing with her judgement.

“Yes, that's the one. G'wan, let's go.” Arche was unable to struggle out from the woman's strong grip, nor was she able to stop her iron staff from being taken. “Oh, this is a nice staff,” commented the strange woman, tracing the runes.

ᚨᚱ ** **ᚲ**** ᚺᛖ ᛫ ᛖᛖᛒ ᛫ ᚱᛁᛚᛖ ᛫ ᚠᚢᚱᛏ

“Arche Eeb Rile Furt, right?”

“Yes- wait, how do you know my name?” Arche demanded.

“It's right here on the staff.” The woman traced the runes that twisted around the head. “Ansuz, Raido, Kaunan... plenty of Ehwaz. Do you want to know the story of each one?”

“I... probably should go.”

“And here we were having a nice conversation, Arche.” The woman's brow furrowed. “Do I look suspicious?”

“Please, I need to go to the Magician's Guild.” Arche reasoned.

“Why, as it happens, so do I.” She smiled. “My name is Sycorax. I'm a Magic Scribe.”

“Ah!” Arche realised. As an Academic Wizard, she was keenly aware of those scribes who somehow commanded a magical power over the very words of magic itself, able to carve spells into wands and equipment. “Magic Scribe?”

“Yes.” Sycorax's eye twinkled. “I'm new to Arwintar, and I'm supposed to go to the Grand Library, but I got lost. I came here with another companion, but we split up.”

“I see... let's go.” Arche doubtfully took her staff back, slowly turning towards the high walls of the territory. “To the Imperial Magic Caster Academy of Arwintar.”

* * *

Soldiers, fifty in number, rode through the grasslands from Re-Boulorel towards the capital of Re-Estize. Each and every one of them was muscular, vigorous and eye-catching. A man, around thirty years of age, with a tanned and wrinkled face, short black hair, black eyes sharp like a sword, and bearing an air of great dignity, looked behind him.

“Is Sir Caliban still there?” Gazef Stronoff, Re-Estize Kingdom’s great Warrior-Captain, shouted.

“He is, Captain!” came the reply. “We just stopped him from turning north!”

Suppressing an urge to do violence, Gazef pulled on the reins of his horse to stop. “I hope nothing happened.”

“...”

Gazef's head turned immediately when answered with silence. He froze.

“This is ridiculous. I am faster on foot than any beast.”

Links of chains lay scattered about. The pack of Barghest lay dead, their bodies steaming on contact with air. There was another great hulk of a monster, a magical hound-like creature that was being sliced open and skinned alive. Its piteous roars did not faze the one skinning it as it thrashed in his grip, dying against a sharp blade.

“This will be a lovely pelt.” Caliban pulled it up to hold against the light. “What do you think, Sir Stronoff?”

“...that's a Greater Barghest.”

“Yes, it is.”

Gazef Stronoff slowly breathed through his nose. Three days into the return to the capital and Caliban was already pushing his knowledge of the world's possibilities. “...that's a lovely thought. You could make a coat at Re-Estize, I know a good furrier.”

“I was thinking about the Admiral.” Caliban frowned at the pelt, and sniffed it. “Need to brain it.”

Gazef sighed, dismounting his horse and thrusting the reins towards his lieutenant. “I suppose we can set up camp here. One of you, start a fire. Allow me to assist you, Sir Caliban.”

Scraping the flesh and fats off of the fur was routine, before taking the magical beast's pulverised brains to rub into the hide. Gazef found himself impressed by the man's knowledge, despite the fact that Caliban apparently couldn't navigate in a straight line. “Do you do this often?”

“Not a lot of chances.” Caliban said after a while. “Buccaneer. Mostly fish. Part crafting job, part combat.”

“It's a way of life, I agree,” Gazef noted, pulling off his breastplate and gauntlets. “Fish?”

“Mmm.” Caliban used the back of his hand to wipe a bead of sweat, before he drew a single-edged dagger to begin slicing into the fat part of the pelt. “Is there a river?”

There was. The pelt soaked downstream of the camp, carefully out of the way of the current but within easy reach before it was stretched and smoked over the campfire on a trimmed branch. Caliban sat by the river, washing his hands and watching the knights about their business.

“You killed a whole pack of Barghest with one slash?!” Gazef was finally yelling at Caliban in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Of course you did.” The Warrior-Captain sighed. “And yet, how is it that you report to a woman?”

Caliban scrubbed the hide, but his eyes were on Gazef.

“It is nothing against Miss Sycorax.” Gazef clarified. “I merely wonder why you go to so much effort to make yourself useful for her, rather than prove your mettle as a warrior or Adventurer.”

“Is that bad?” asked Caliban. “To be useful?”

Gazef could not answer his question.


	14. XIII: Blethering

 

As usual, the North Market of the Empire's Capital was full of energy. However, the number of customers that frequented the North Market was a lot less when compared to the central market, due to the specialisation of the sold products. As such, it wasn't difficult to navigate through the less crowded streets, as Arche Eeb Rile Furt found. However, the woman following her did not relax, despite being in public, and in one of the safest districts of Arwintar. Given that the woman's left eye was covered with a leather eye-patch, Arche attributed her attention to the lack of depth perception.

“This is a big place,” the white-haired girl commented. It had the air of pronouncing a fact; no impressment, no awe at standing in possibly the largest market on the continent, right up with the legendary market of the Slane Theocracy.

“This is the market for magic items exclusively.” Self-consciously, Arche cradled her iron staff; it had served her through the Imperial Magic Academy. “Wands, scrolls, swords...”

One green eye considered the open-air stalls, neatly arranged and filled with items for people passing by to see. The items on display were typically placed on single sheets, one sheet per item. “Well, you can't really find _good_ items here, can you?”

Arche flinched as Sycorax's rather loud declaration drew the attention of most stall-owners milling about. The majority of the items on sale at each store were, indeed, medium-quality goods, though already at the upper end of a Worker's take. Since the pool of goods came from the unwanted tools of Adventurers and Workers like Arche, the costs did not include processing fees from the Magicians or Blacksmiths guilds. Thus, bargains could usually be found in such a specialised market. “Well, why did you want to come here?”

“Well, given that I just came all the way inland, I thought I might as well look around.” A snort was aimed at a bucket of wands standing under heavy watch. “Those wands couldn't even patch an ingrown toenail, never mind moderate wounds. Oh!”

“What?” Arche's hand was taken up in hers – a cool, papery feel against her own fingers caught in a grip like a tangled web of silk, before the Magic Caster was hauled before a pretty pavilion. “...Magic household items?”

Unlike the magic items used by adventurers and workers, the ones on display in this pavilion were for everyday usage, such as containers that kept their inside temperature cold, or fan-like items capable of blowing wind. It was quite a rare sight to see Adventurers, who tended to live in inns, looking at magic household items that were thought up by this demi-human, and had no uses for adventuring.

“Do you... not know them, Sycorax?” Arche asked the Magic Scribe.

“Came by ship over the sea.”

Arche immediately drew a conclusion. “They must be very strange for you, then. Would you... like to buy them? If you're staying here-”

“Staying?” Sycorax echoed. “I must go down to the seas again. I'm looking at the fridge.”

Arche's eye followed her indication to the 'fridge' – a colloquialism, apparently, meant for the box that kept food cold. “I... don't understand.”

“Keeping meat cold prevents it from spoiling. Preserving food on long voyages is vital on a tall-ship.”

Sycorax immediately had the attention of the immediate vicinity. Adventurers and Workers, in fact most people, were very acquainted with living hand-to-mouth, due to the difficulty of keeping food from spoiling. Every winter, there would be a race to slaughter the pigs, and salt or smoke the pork to store for winter. Sycorax's pronouncement had just rendered the Minotaur Sage's novelty item into something vital to surviving in the winter.

“But... you're a Scribe,” Arche finally pointed out.

“And yet there is still more knowledge to be gathered from the world, Arche.” Sycorax mused. “Knowledge is to be improved. Who invented these things, pray tell?”

Arche told her the story: these types of magic items had largely been proposed by a Minotaur hailed as “The Boastful Sage” about two hundred years ago. Though, despite his proposal for the creation of many such items, he had been unable to explain why these items needed to be in this particular shape, or how they worked.

In the end, this warrior was unable to create them and ended up with such a title. However, his skills as a warrior had been beyond first-class, and left behind the legend that one swing of his axe was capable of creating tornadoes and splitting the earth. He was also well known for raising the status of humans within the Great Minotaur Nation from a species that was treated as food, to slaves used for labour.

“How very creative,” Sycorax murmured to herself.

“So... how does that work?” Arche pointed to another contraption meant for blowing wind.

“You know what's a hand fan used for?” Arche nodded to Sycorax's arch question. “Same purpose.”

“Why would anyone make such a thing?”

“Well, I imagine the general idea is, when you're fanning yourself on a hot day and your wrist gives under the strain of all that fanning, you want to leave the work to more consistent and automated magic,” Sycorax dryly commented. “You can probably sell it to nobles.”

“There's not a lot of them in the Empire nowadays,” Arche replied. Having concluded the conversation of useful knowledge, the crowds of the Northern Market began to go about their business.

Sycorax corrected herself: “You can sell them to very rich merchants.”

Giggling, Arche led Sycorax along the stalls of the market. “So, if these objects are meant for rich merchants, then what about those who want to use them?” asked the Magic Caster.

“Hmm...” Sycorax reached up to her hat, messing about underneath the brim before she pulled out a wand the length of her arm, its gold decorations glinting against the ivory. With its grip engraved with runes, it gave off a divine aura. “This is very useful.”

Arche's iron staff clanked as it hit the ground, and her foot.

“Ow!”

“Are you alright, Arche?” Sycorax asked in concern, fixing the Resurrection Wand back into her hat as most of the stall-owners began to pay attention to them once more.

“F- Fine. I'm fine!” Arche stuttered, wiggling her smarting toes in her boots.

As fine as anyone could be after seeing a legendary artefact, the 「Resurrection Wand」. A wand was an item that could hold multiple charges of the same spell, and a Resurrection spell was probably the most valuable magic in this world. No sane person would give up the chance to return from death. Furthermore, selling the wand would let Arche clear her debts, and, more importantly, take her sisters away from her irresponsible wastrels of parents. If Sycorax was toting one about in her hat, Arche was very keen on making friends with such a talented Magic Scribe.

“The Grand Library is through here?” Sycorax prompted. “Odd, everyone was heading to the opposite direction.”

“Y- Yes, those are students,” Arche floundered; they had gone to the opposite direction of the Magic Academy's dormitories. “The Grand Library itself is here.”

A curtain wall ran along part of Arwintar's main street. Within the wall was a door, made of heavy wood and reinforced with iron buckles and hinges. Arche pushed against the door, murmuring a spell as it swung open.

“Security spell?” Sycorax noted.

“Didn't they tell you?” Arche's eyes narrowed. She had business at the Magician's Guild, and the woman was being awfully suspicious.

“They might have mentioned the scriptorium, but not the library itself,” Sycorax sighed, her woebegone expression so tragic as to be comical. “And then the administrator was accosted by someone complaining about there being only one quill, and why didn't they stock more quills, because the person in line was probably writing a liturgy- but what do I know? I'm just copying manuscripts by hand  _all the time_ -”

“Alright, yes, thank you for all your work, library's this way,” Arche hurriedly interrupted, placing her hand in Sycorax's hand to lead the way. Magic Casters may be the primary wielders of magic amongst humanity, but bureaucracy would supersede all classes and jobs of civilisation, human or inhuman.

Contrary to its name, the Grand Library of the Arwintar Imperial Magic Caster Academy was set in a building shorter than the rest of the Academy campus. Its bookcases stood within the walls, surrounding rows and rows of tables and benches. Chains were strung along some of the shelves, dangling from the corner of some volumes onto the ground.

“This is...” Sycorax decided to ignore the chains, instead taking in the smells of papyrus, badly processed parchment, wood, and the milk and oat bran used for whitewashing palimpsests – someone was reusing parchments, she guessed. “...nice.”

“Oh, do you need a restricted book?” Arche blinked at her companion, who seemed to have been stupefied. “There's three thousand codices and scrolls here. It's very impressive, isn't it?”

Sycorax kept quiet. Any guild worth their salt would collate information jealously within their own archives for use. Monster data, magic items, event items, cosmetic skins, and novels, were some of the valuable objects in the YGGDRASIL market, and Sycorax had indirectly earned her personal in-game wealth by creating and selling books. A little bit of maths – and data mining of YGGDRASIL's institutional depository – placed the average guild archive weighing in around 120,000 files per headquarters, not counting the personal archives of players, or individual copies of 「Game Encyclopedia」.

The Treasure Ship  _Sequoia_  alone had a specialised section for books, named the Lyceum, which held at last count over four hundred thousand encrypted and compressed files, now physical books – not counting Sycorax's personal library. Even back in the real world, the library of the National Defence Academy of Japan was more impressive – if not in physical copies, then in online archives, numbering in the tens of thousands.

Thus, to Sycorax, and to Kaiō Michiru, the Grand Library of Arwintar fell short of 'impressive', and more to 'within very low expectations'. “I need to copy a history book, or something... I can't recall the incipit.”

“Master Fluder Paradyne wrote a lot of the books and pioneered a lot of concepts introduced here,” Arche volunteered. “And... I read a lot of the books... when I was here.”

Sycorax immediately turned, grabbing the doll-like Magic Caster in a bear hug. “Yay! So, can you help me find the books? Apparently, we need to overhaul some of the texts on magic theory or something.”

“Ah, that's the restricted books- what are you doing?” Arche blinked as Sycorax had let go of her shoulders to rush the shelves, grabbing a tome chained to its shelf. “The Academy is... overhauling magic theory? Why?”

“How would I know?  _Anecdotes of the Four Great Spirits_...” Frowning, Sycorax hefted the book, already sure that she was taking it with her. “Say, why is this library empty?”

“Right now... right now Master Paradyne should be conducting a lecture on air magic,” Arche related. “Attendance is unrestricted, so everyone went to check.”

“But you aren't there.”

“I'm... not his student anymore.” Arche shrugged. “Ran out of money.”

Sycorax stopped reading to pay attention. Under her heavy gaze, Arche nearly skipped back as that eye studied her hair, face, robe and staff. The eye then shifted back to the books, and she physically turned away, allowing Arche to breathe freely.

Arche leaned back against the door frame, watching her mysterious acquaintance flutter around, opening books and simply... looking. If the hat fell off, and with it the Resurrection Wand... she could sell it. Hekkeran Termite, the leader of her Worker group, Foresight, could find a fence, or sell it himself. It would bring in a tidy profit...

Arche tightened her grip. Sycorax knew her true name, her appearance. Her family's name. Her sisters...

The Wand would fetch a high enough price, Arche told herself. Enough to clear all the debts and still have some left over. She would be able to take Ureirika and Kuuderika elsewhere. If their luck held, James, the loyal old retainer, could live with them. And Sycorax... well, it was too bad...

She stood, and blinked as she came face-to-face with Sycorax herself.

“I'm sorry,” Sycorax whispered. “I have taken up so much of your time, and it must be very important to you. You need to get to the Magician's Guild, right?”

Arche blinked. It had been a lie, one to let her get back to her business. She could not recall exactly what she had said, to bring Sycorax all the way in here. Yes, there was something, something she needed... something away from the Terror...

Resurrection Wand.

Arche staggered back, shaking. “I- It's no problem, I- I need to get back to my business now! I'm a Worker, so...”

Her hand was taken again, gently cradled in fingers that were strong and dexterous. “A Worker?”

“We're Adventurers not connected to the Adventurer's Guild,” Arche faintly replied as the Terror increased, yet her hand prevented her from escaping the serpent's gaze. “H- Hekkeran's waiting for me.”

“How interesting.” Sycorax's gaze sharpened, activating the passive skill「Gorgeous Gorgon」. “I'd love to meet him.”

* * *

Before Caliban had set out in the care of Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff, the entire command structure of the Fleet – his Admiral, and the Fleet Commanders that were controlling each division in the absence of the Admiralty – had gathered to decide on how to extend an alliance to the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Friendly relations between Hostis Humani Generis and Ainz Ooal Gown extended a long way back, before either guild had been founded, but most of that had been conducted between the Admiralty and whichever of Ainz Ooal Gown's leaders were on hand. Anyone attached to the Fleet would have quickly deduced that Caliban was not exactly the most diplomatic option, but there were slim pickings amongst the Fleet officers.

It would be terrible to have to tell the Fleet Admiral that years of friendship and alliance had failed because of him. However, Caliban reflected as he actually entered the city of Re-Estize at last, that was irrelevant if he didn't know who was he supposed to find. The Warrior-Captain himself, on the other hand, seemed to have stuck to him like a human burr, so he couldn't go search the city.

Accustomed to waiting out moments, Caliban simply paid attention to the city, while reflecting on his life.

Unlike the other Commanders, Caliban neither been born strong, nor was his current creator his actual progenitor. He had been made an Aoandon, a mere Yōkai guard to the  _Sequoia_ despite being a custom NPC. The one time an intruder had made it as far as the  _Sequoia_ , he had been ignobly felled in a single slash, though the「Terror」state induced by his racial passive skill had managed to hold the party back. Admiral Nurarihyon had still deemed him unacceptable after payment for the revival, and had started talking about 'wiping the slate clean' and 'starting over'. Given Admiral Nurarihyon's propensity to erase NPCs for redesign at the slightest provocation, the unnamed Aoandon had prepared himself to oblivion for displeasing the officer in command, right there, in the grand cabin of the  _Queen of the Night_.

That had been the moment when his life had taken an abrupt turn, as a cutlass embedded itself on the far wall.

“Alright, good news, we managed to get- what are you doing?” The Fleet Admiral had walked in, fists closed. The scabbard that hung from her belt was conspicuously empty.

“This NPC is not performing up to spec, Sycorax.” Nurarihyon was hard on all NPCs, but even harder on his own creations. “I'm going to start over.”

“Nurarihyon,” Sycorax interrupted. “This is the one that held back the ACCUSED party all by himself, right? What's his name?”

“Guard 3.”

Sycorax snorted, the motion somehow expressive despite the fact that her face had not moved all the while. “I'm just... not gonna say anything. We got an upgrade to our mobile base, so I'm going to need one of your NPCs as a template to make a skipper for the new ship. I tried to make one, but the advanced coding and programming is just beyond me.”

“What are you, five?” Nurarihyon snapped back, with the tone of his voice indicating that he was still going to hand over something anyway. “The things I do for the Captain.”

“Commodore. We have four ships, and you're taking the  _Heart of Oak_ on the next sortie.” Sycorax's eye turned towards him, the insignificant seaman in the presence of two members of the Admiralty. “You don't want him, right? Then give him to me.”

“Not at all.” Nurarihyon rolled his eyes. “I know you've got your eye on him since he managed to slay a player way above his grade, but let me point out to you, Dryads are weak to fire. This guy was _lucky_.”

“Plucky, too, if he won against a Dryad Druid thirty levels higher than himself,” Sycorax shrugged. “Come on, Nurarihyon.”

Nurarihyon sighed, his fingers moving in mid-air, and he felt his ownership change, his loyalties shifting to the Fleet Admiral who had saved him. “You're the Commodore, you make him however you like. I can't even figure out what you see in him.”

“I see our potential mixed together in this boy.” Sycorax commented, sliding towards him and placing a cool, papery hand on his cheek.

“I took my name from a story,  _The Tempest,_ ” Sycorax reflected. “In it, my namesake had a son, named Caliban. My dear, from now on, your name will be Caliban, child of Sycorax.”

His entire form had been remade; the horns he wore changed, a tail added, his uniform remade to exact specifications, new equipment and weapons, new abilities... a new name and origin. For him, whose life was saved with a sword, was merged with and lived with a sword, and acted as a sword, Caliban had been born from the salvation granted by the Fleet Admiral, spared from certain death and raised to the heavens to execute the Admiralty's orders on the high seas. The city was an unknown place to him. The only times he had spent his life ashore, were really to raid settlements like Re-Estize, and a few times to attack bases.

The situation at hand, though, was very different from his normal orders. Killing people would draw attention, the wrong type of attention.

Caliban's hands tightened on the reins of the gelding he was riding, already impatient to get going despite the fact that the gelding was tethered to Gazef's stallion after the fifth time Caliban rode in the wrong direction. Trying to control his breathing and keep other involuntary passive skills from manifesting in the middle of a human population, Caliban controlled his breathing, mentally reciting the Prayer of Weapons known to Sword Saints.

_I am steel. Steel knows no fear. Steel knows no doubt. When faced with my enemy, I hesitate not. I am a weapon to destroy these..._

“Have you accommodations, Sir Caliban?” Gazef enquired, already savvy enough to realise an important lack of something with Caliban's destination. Namely, the fact that Caliban was only told to arrive in Re-Estize, not at a specific place in the Kingdom's capital.

“No.” The Fleet Admiral had been kind enough to arrange for him to stay with the two delegates from Nazarick, now if only he could find them. Caliban had also been told not to tell Gazef this fact.

Gazef was clearly not intending to set Caliban loose on Re-Estize, if the thinning of his lips was any indication. “So, you're just intending to wander around Re-Estize... _lost_.”

“Yes!” Caliban nodded, unable to see the blanched expressions of Gazef's soldiers behind him.

“I have a guest-room,” Gazef deftly offered. “The amenities are few, but it will provide a bed and a roof over one's head well enough.”

“I sleep in a hammock at sea, so a bed is quite a luxury,” Caliban admitted, giving in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just found this out from the D&D Wiki:
> 
> Flaw: Directionless [General]
> 
> You have no sense of direction, you cannot get anywhere without the help of a map and compass, or someone else. Directions are useless to you. Even setting out more than 5 feet you become obliviously lost.
> 
> Effect: -4 to Survival checks, you are unaffected by any know-direction spell or spell-like ability, and it takes twice as long to travel anywhere without the help of a compass and map, or travelling with someone who is competent enough to help guide you. On the other hand, from all the wandering and travelling of being lost, your body is more durable.
> 
> Caliban is so bad, Sycorax had to find a guardian just to get him to Re-Estize!
> 
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!


	15. XIV: Broadside

 

~'✵'~

_10 th Floor,  
Great Tomb of Nazarick_

_〇月✕日_

_Kaiō Michiru-san,_

_Thanks for the quick update. We will have to talk about your information gathering skills and strategies later, but for now just accept my thanks for saving Shalltear Bloodfallen – do you remember Perorocino-san? She's his creation._

_As for the World Item_ _「_ _Downfall of Castle and Country_ _」_ _, I am afraid to say that no, that Item is not within my possession. To our combined knowledge, I am sure that said Item is also not part of the Twenty. I agree with you that the situation has gotten serious. Noting your location in the Baharuth Empire, I am therefore extending an invitation on behalf of the Guild of Ainz Ooal Gown, for you to come to Nazarick following the conclusion of your heist._

_A map has been enclosed. My deepest apologies for the lack of details; we do not have professional cartographers on staff here._

_Please, Michiru-san, come! **COME TO NAZARICK**!_

_Yours,_

_Suzuki Satoru_

~'✵'~

* * *

Nereus snorted as he walked out of the Arwintar Centurion's office, bouncing the half-emptied vial of「Blue Angel」in his hands. A few drops in the water he had served to Femel in the guise of a poor foot soldier, and the navy man was already babbling when he left. Never mind that Femel arc Vers Envers was speaking the truth; the truth would be lost amidst the euphoria, visual and mental hallucinations, changes in perception, distorted sense of time, nausea and panic attacks caused by the mushroom extract that Cutty Sark had entrusted to him. Nereus had even taken the courtesy to remove the cup and toss it back into the barracks' mess hall he had gotten it from.

Whistling, Nereus set out towards the spot that the Admiral had denoted as their meeting place, ditching the armour he had stolen next to the unconscious foot soldier in the food storage warehouse that said armour belonged to. Almost as as afterthought, he grabbed a corked flagon, sniffed the contents, and upended the entire thing on the unconscious man's head.

The man shook, his face wet and reeking of alcohol. Easily enough, Nereus reversed his grip and slammed the whole jar on the man's head. The fire-hardened clay knocked the man over, the flagon following the man's head down to the ground with a crack. Mission now accomplished, Nereus sauntered out with another flagon, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt and putting his hat back on to hide his loose hair.

Walking along the raised side-walk, he stopped next to a nondescript blond man in chain-mail. Nereus had actually chosen to stand next to the man for a reason, because there was a group of light and heavy-armoured knights standing guard opposite him at that particular junction. Between the man with no visible weapons up his sleeves; and the man with two short swords, a mace, an armour-piercer and the jingle of chain-mail following his every footstep; the choice of most suspicious person was obvious. Nereus' Thief skills immediately ensured that he was nondescript, if rather strangely carrying a flagon of wine under his arm.

“There's a lot of patrols in this area, aren't there?” Nereus made the first move, talking to the man next to him as they waited for an ox-cart to move away.

“Ah,” said the man, confronted with a beautiful man bearing wine. “The Temple of the Four Great Gods is in the vicinity, so the number of patrols in this area is high. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Sailed up from Venetus to sell salt,” Nereus lied. “You'd think that all the Magic Casters would put us out of business already, but what they did was just raise the price of salt.”

His creator, Admiral Titania, had shared her name with that of the Fairy Queen in Alfheimr, and her approach to lying was the same; rather uninspired, but effective in communicating a lot of things. Nereus simply mixed as much of the truth as possible, fudging so many details and sex appeal that by the end nobody actually remembered what he said.

“Well, there's a lot more useful things to make with magic than salt,” the armed man demurred. “Sailed up, you said? Venetus?”

“Lovely place, plenty of canals, the last storm nearly buried quite a few buildings.” Nereus could still feel the gaze of the knights gathering, though more on his companion than himself. “You're... not an Adventurer, are you?”

“No, not part of the Guild.” They started walking, coincidentally in the same direction and without incident. “We're not registered with them. I'm Hekkeran Termite, I'm part of a Worker group, Foresight.”

Nereus caught on. It might be alright for adventurers, but for people that had no backing from any organisations or persons of influence, it simply was unwise to get into conflicts with knights tasked with protecting the Empire. “I sail the coasts from Re-Ulovale to Venetus. The captain sent me upstream with someone important.”

Having made it past the territory of the temple, Hekkeran finally relaxed and set his sights further ahead. A huge building came into view, and along with it, the sound of cheering, battle and the thirst for blood. Nereus sniffed, confirming blood from human and monster alike being spilled within. “What's this now?”

“This is the Grand Arena, the only one of its kind in the world.” Hekkeran looked slightly disgusted, yet resigned, to bringing the country mouse from Venetus about. “It's cheap entertainment for the capital's people. Think it's the finals of a combat tournament.”

“Between... people?” Nereus asked.

“No way, we're not _monsters_. Against monsters. Usually,” Hekkeran rolled his eyes with his amendment. “You got a team, fighting continuous hordes of monsters, and losing means death. People die all the time; from monsters, from humans, from the audience... deaths bring attention. People talk about them all the time.”

Nereus shrugged. Death at sea happened all the time as well. “You fight in them?”

“Not today, but when I get back I should probably ask for the highlights,” Hekkeran nodded. “It seems quite exciting today.”

Nereus had a sudden thought, and walked faster, visions of the Admiral abandoning the Singing Apple Pavilion to fight through hordes of monsters dancing in his head. It would not be the first time, according to his Admiral.

_I hope the guys back home are having a better day than me..._

* * *

“See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Mr Ariel!”

Ariel, wearing a shirt, breeches and a hat, waved idly at the fishermen cabal that he was leaving back in Venetus. Since the fleet was currently anchored on an offshore island that the Admiral had currently designated as Pantaleone, it made sense to establish good relations with the Venetians. “I'll bring more fish again tomorrow!”

In YGGDRASIL, seafaring classes, especially Pirates, were allowed to use tall-ships and cannons. The issue was, ships were classed as equipment, despite the fact that owning a ship allowed anyone with a seafaring job-class the title of Captain, along with 400 levels to create NPCs to crew the ship. Ships were also the only equipment for which a maintenance fee had to be paid, which covered repair, docking fees, upkeep, crewing – which was why a common cry in YGGDRASIL naval battles was 'Stop blowing holes in my ship!'.

While it was technically possible to build any number of ships, the upkeep of one vessel alone had ruined unprepared players. A ship could also be seized by killing the captain of a ship, which made building and maintaining one a hazardous process. To offset the high need for money, all seafaring classes were also classed as crafting classes, and had common that allowed them to earn more money from nautical exploits – shell-diving, fishing, _etcetera_. Hostis Humani Generis, and other seafaring guilds, were different, because the ships were denoted as Guild property, and thus subject to the normal maintenance fees for base upkeep instead of individual payments, but the fact that their NPC levels could be theoretically infinite – due to the grey areas of property and locations that ships represented – meant that seafaring guilds had players and NPCs earning money.

While the coffers of Hostis Humani Generis could maintain the fleet's upkeep unto infinity, it was still common sense for the fleet's non-essential manpower to earn some cash on the side. The last commanders' meeting had established that, after paying a nominal fee, any extras that they earned was their pocket money. Not that Ariel needed pocket money, but as his creator, Vice-Admiral Librobum Prohibitorium, often said, some funds on hand never went amiss.

Thus, Ariel was delivering the day's catch for sale to the wholesaler, after picking off some of the best for the fleet's own share. Almost like stray dogs, pirates seem to be perpetually cursed with hunger – even when within reach of land; living on short common was not a pleasant experience for anyone, despite all their experiences from the rotating shift three-day three-night naval battle of the Emerald Isle years ago.

“Captain!” a voice shouted from the deck of the  _Cedar_. “Message from Commander Caliban! He's in Re-Estize!”

“Already, Assam?” Ariel exclaimed, glaring at the messenger, a brown cat on all fours. “Nagato received his message?”

“Diviners are trying to determine his coordinates to use 「Gate」,” the cat relayed. “Quartermaster Nagato sent for you, for the situation about the Nazarick delegation.”

“They couldn't possibly be there yet. The Admiral accounted for Caliban having no sense of direction!” Ariel peered around the deck, glaring at the ratlines populated by cats. “Where is Bran, anyway?”

As if on cue, a bedraggled crow plopped down, nearly onto the deck if not for Ariel's quick reflexes. An oilskin-wrapped letter were still clutched in its talons. Instead of the horned-demon coat of arms of Ainz Ooal Gown, now the crest of Nazarick; the seal was smaller and different, more like a grinning face, denoting personal correspondence from Ainz Ooal Gown meant for the Admiral alone.

   


<http://41.media.tumblr.com/d136d2f40438bc5f79ee39480eb104da/tumblr_nw4298frDa1uaylcyo1_1280.jpg>

<https://67.media.tumblr.com/c1acac06c9a2218a3bdf68ca12594a7e/tumblr_o85i4q3PcX1vpvwcso1_1280.jpg>  
 

“Bard, I need you to run relay service!” Ariel called, another crow swooping down onto his shoulder almost immediately. “If you can find Huginn, get him to send the letter. Did Bran tell you all the route?”

The bird snorted once.

“Alright then. Go.” Ariel held up the personal letter. Bard grabbed the letter, immediately taking off to the coast beyond the mists that hid the fleet and the island of Pantaleone from the mainland.

“Assam, with me.” Ariel made for the grand cabin of his own ship, Assam padding after him as he headed for the island table, where Assam leapt onto.

“Signaller Assam, prepare「Telegraph」to Earl Grey.”

The Fleet's glaring of Catfolk demi-humans served more than mousing purposes – although they were very useful against the Plague Rats that only attacked ships in YGGDRASIL. Since each ship's cat was also a Level 5 Medium, they could easily cast communication spells between ships, and clouding spells to hide those same communications. In this case, Assam's eyes sparkled as the spell took hold.

“Connection established.” When Assam next spoke, it was in the pleasant tones of the Quartermaster.

{Nagato speaking.}

“You called me?” Ariel asked. The advantage of 「Telegraph」over 「Message」was the possibility of adding more people, but Ariel was already wondering if he should have stuck to 「Message」instead.

{Caliban reported back via 「Message」. Due to the nature of his message, Assam forwarded it to me first.}

“That's alright, I wasn't around.” Ariel thought back to the bag of silver and copper, meant for the purser. “The fantasista got himself there on time?”

{Yes, and at the same time he did not see anyone from Nazarick. Since none of us have met anyone from Nazarick yet, 「Message」is out of the question. I would prefer that we resolve this without informing the Admiral that we lost a division commander.}

Ariel winced. If the Automaton sounded fretful, that was only an indication of what the Admiral might react if told that nobody was watching her creation as it blundered its way through a Kingdom. They had debated again and again, but the truth was, Caliban was the only suitable candidate. Nagato, Merry and Cutty were needed to keep the fleet repaired and running, Nereus was necessary to watch the Admiral, Ariel needed to hide the Fleet, Bonny was a ghost, and Phaeton had wings. The only good news was that Caliban could use his special abilities to spawn his own guards, so the Third Division Commander wasn't completely alone so much as a walking time bomb going off far away from the fleet. “Right. I'll start that letter to Nazarick. Who were we supposed to contact again?”

A Fishman ran in, his scales glittering in the little light there was. “Commander Ariel, there's a... someone from the Merman Navy?”

“There's always someone from the Merman Navy, who is he?”

“Erm, just a Captain, I think.”

They had also discussed the Agrand Council Alliance and the Merman Navy, with a consensus of treatment being established amongst them. “Inside or outside the mists?”

“Outside, sir.”

“He intrudes, the Old Guard can kill him,” Ariel went to the desk, grabbing a paper and a stencil bearing the official crest of Hostis Humani Generis. “Now, I need to write a very diplomatic letter and a copy for Nagato. This is a terrible day.”

* * *

The messenger raven that came in fluttered around its desk, dropping a letter wrapped in waterproof oilskin before its occupant. Already in the midst of reviewing his plans, Ainz Ooal Gown picked up the letter addressed from Hostis Humani Generis. Curious about the wax seal, he opened the dispatch box that had been a gift, pulling out the letter opener that was the only way to slice it open, and started reading.

“This is... ah, right. Sycorax-san and I were talking about letting our NPCs communicate.” The phalanges of his left hand drummed on the stretched-leather cover. “Official correspondence is so nostalgic, but the handwriting is so tiny... no, I can't complain, they have a paper shortage. I should be thankful that Sycorax-san even sent me some extra paper as well. Mare should be back with that report on which trees we can make in paper soon, but what about _this_?”

He was referring to the letter in his hand, scribbled on what looked obviously like handmade papyrus, the writing tiny and spidery, carefully written and blotted. The eight-point compass-rose crest of Hostis Humani Generis was proudly printed as a makeshift letterhead, and someone had made an effort to neatly print by hand the guild motto underneath.

~'✵'~

   
▼  
► ✵ ◄  
▲  
_Sic Parvis Magna  
 _

_Admiralty Ship_ Cedar _  
Pantaleone Island_

 

_The Office of The Supreme Beings of Ainz Ooal Gown_  
10 th Floor  
Great Tomb of Nazarick

 

XX August XXXX

_ Re: Presence of delegates in Re-Estize _

_Dear Sir/Madam,_

_My deepest apologies for the sudden calling upon you, but the matter at hand is of a serious nature._

_As you may well know, our respective leaders have embarked upon an alliance to be secured physically in Re-Estize between the delegates of the Fomori Fleet and the Great Tomb of Nazarick. I represent my esteemed colleague Caliban, who is, as of writing, in Re-Estize for the meeting between our respective enterprises._

_Due to my colleague's directionally challenged nature, as well as his special status as creation of our Fleet Admiral Sycorax, the Admiral has expressed her greatest concerns to your Supreme Being Ainz Ooal Gown. We have received the direct assurances of Ainz Ooal Gown, that the denizens of the Great Tomb would be able to provide safe harbour for Caliban in a strange land. Caliban's report, however, indicates that he has yet to meet anyone from Nazarick as of writing._

_We are rather worried about his situation, with this letter being sent in the hopes of enquiring as to the whereabouts of the delegation of Nazarick, and the possibility of speedy resolution. While Nazarick has our assurances that Caliban is the most lawfully compliant of individuals and understands the burden he bears as a representative of the Admiralty ashore, we must fear for the potential damages incurred by him to draw attention. Speaking on behalf of the Admiralty, I are sure that neither of us do not wish for undue attentions to be brought upon our respective organisations, nor for this abrupt turn of fate to cast a pall upon relations between Nazarick and the Fleet._

_Vincent, the messenger raven, will be on standby to take your reply back post-haste. Again, please accept our deepest apologies and concerns on behalf of the Admiralty, who has delegated such a task to this member of the enterprise._

_Fair winds and following seas,_

ARIEL  
2nd Division Commander of the Fomori Fleet  
Admiralty Ship Cedar  
Pantaleone Island

~'✵'~

Ainz pondered for a brief moment, before he activated「Message」and summoned two people. A polite knock resounded a few seconds later, before the door opened.

“Ainz-sama,” greeted Yuri Alpha with a prostrated bow, the acting leader of the Pleiades battle-maids calm and professional. “You summoned me?”

“Yes, Yuri Alpha. But we have to wait first,” Ainz beckoned, giving his implied permission to the battle maid to step in. Barely had she cleared the doorway that a vision in white swooped in.

“Ainz-sama! You're finally going to-” Albedo stopped talking as she spotted Yuri Alpha. “...take my virginity?”

“No.” Ainz held up the letter. “Read this.”

Silently, Albedo and Yuri pored over the letter, the beautiful visage of the Overseer slowly colouring over. “...Sebas and Solution Epsilon should already be en route to Re-Estize, after separating from Shalltear in the Karst region.”

“Hmm? Should they not be there already?”

“Deepest apologies, Ainz-sama!” Albedo trembled. “Because of the nature of their assignment, Sebas and Solution had to stay for a longer period to establish relations. And, the bandits that Shalltear was supposed to route out did not take the bait-”

“Enough. I understand.” Cue the drumming phalanges. “Sycorax-san really gives her subordinates much more initiative than I thought in diplomatic communications.”

“Ainz-sama, our management system is very comprehensive and covers all denizens within Nazarick!” Albedo protested.

Ainz sweat-dropped as Albedo started ranting, realising the key word: _within Nazarick_. Ainz Ooal Gown had been formed and forged in the dungeon raid to conquer the Great Tomb of Nazarick under Momonga's direction, and had always held onto the ownership rights of the Great Tomb throughout their time on YGGDRASIL. In thick and thin, he had always had the safety of the Great Tomb to protect him, but that meant that the extent of his defences were centred around the Great Tomb and its surroundings.

A fleet, on the other hand, was a bunch of ships. 「Message」probably wouldn't cut it, and coordinating so many ships in a naval bombardment in YGGDRASIL – which meant fighting sea monsters, islands, and so on – across disparate locations translated to needing a great communication system. By sending this letter, her Fleet was already extending Nazarick into their communication systems, and defences by extension.

“Albedo,” Ainz started. “I acknowledge your hard work in Nazarick's security system. Now, we have another issue that is different; diplomatic communications include those outside of Nazarick. The Fomori Fleet has stood by my comrades and I, comrades in all but name since their founding, and their Fleet Admiral is a relation of Punitto Moe-san. It remains in Nazarick's interest, therefore, that their office remains on cordial terms with our office. This address to the _office of the Supreme Beings_ is the beginning of such a liaison. Yuri.”

“Yes!”

“You are now appointed as Nazarick's correspondent to the Fleet. Write them a reply with our assurance that Sebas and Solution are well on their way to Re-Estize. Use paper. Titus should already have some letterhead paper for formal correspondence. This letter from Ariel is a shining example of coordinated communication across nations, return it to me when you are done.”

“Yes, Ainz-sama. As the Supreme One commands.” Yuri accepted the letter and her mission with barely a frown.

“Albedo.” Ainz now turned to the other NPC. “As the Overseer, you had to be notified of such a development. My apologies for tearing you away from your duties.”

“Anything for Ainz-sama~!” Albedo's thighs dropped in a curtsy that emphasised her bosom. “Will we... get started?”

“Er... not right now. How is the progress on your suite.”

“I- it's wonderful, Ainz-sama! Will you... be dropping by?”

“No. Not at all.” Ainz quickly interrupted. “Has the report on the Forest of Tob been established?”

“Not yet. Aura and Mare should have the completed information by tonight.” Albedo sighed. “Then I will present the complete report to you.”

“I see. Good work, Albedo. Tell Aura and Mare that I find their work good as well.”

“Yes, Ainz-sama!” Reluctantly, Albedo left after Yuri.

Ainz sighed, already pulling out a sheet of paper and his new fountain pen to draft a letter.

* * *

~'✵'~

_10 th Floor,  
Great Tomb of Nazarick_

_〇月✕日_

_Michiru-san,_

_I have just sent off a letter about our common problem of the World Item that neither of us realised until you mentioned it, but the situation requires some commentary. Your NPC son Caliban appeared to have become lost in my neck of the woods, and Ariel sent us a letter accordingly. I commend your 2 nd Division Commander for his initiative. He, and everyone else in your Guild, are probably skilled in coordinating large numbers of people, something that I cannot say is the same for Nazarick._

_With that said, you have my assurances that Shalltear, Sebas Tien, and Solution Epsilon will find Caliban before anything really bad can happen. I am willing to stake my guild on it._

_Michiru-san, I think I am correct to say that, in order to gain a foothold on this continent, we must get military experience. You might be the monster who took on the founding members of Trinity before, but the challenge of subjugation is, I dare say, different from our previous experience in real life. Nazarick is now beginning an experimental campaign into the lands of the Lizardmen, as I have mentioned in the previous letters. I have placed Cocytus as the Commander-in-Chief of this affair, and in a week's time we will likely begin the battle. It might be weird of me to say, but will your Othinus class be affected by this?_

_I meant no offence when I ask this question. You may feel free to refuse to answer, and I apologise if I offended you in the course of my thoughtless curiosity. I still remain,_

_Yours,_

_Satoru Suzuki_

~'✵'~

* * *

The Worker group Foresight operated out of the Singing Apple Pavilion. The inn was said to have started with the gathering of bards who built their instruments using the wood of apple trees before it was a bar and an inn.

From outside, the shop seemed a bit outdated, but the interior was surprisingly tidy and in good condition; that is, it boasted a clean floor and it kept the cold out. To Hekkeran and his comrades – no, in fact, to the majority of Workers – this shop was regarded as the best inn without a doubt, due to a few conditions.

Firstly, the work given to Workers usually required discretion. Eye-catching hotels in public places were an inconvenience for the kinds of people that required the services of Workers. At the same time, though, it had a respectability that allowed potential clients to approach a Worker.

Secondly, there was the need for multiple teams of Workers to stay in the same spot at the same time. Due to the fact that Workers did not have the support of an organization like the Adventurer's Guild, the clients were required to search for Worker teams themselves. It would be very troublesome for everyone if the Workers stayed in different places. Therefore, inns like the Singing Apple were ideal locations that met the clients' needs due to the availability of private spaces to negotiate affairs, plus the presence of the Workers themselves. Furthermore, from a Worker's perspective, staying near each other brought about a sense of camaraderie – as much as it could exist between competitors. There was also the benefit of avoiding conflicting jobs that would cause unnecessary bloodshed, due to being able to easily coordinate with many teams.

Last but not least, the food here was really nice. While thinking about tonight's dinner, Hekkeran opened the front door, anticipating the night's meal already.

The words that he heard, however, were not the typical 'Welcome back' or 'Good work', or maybe even 'they made pork stew today, we're going to eat it all', but:

“–I've already said! I don't know!”

“Even if you say that...”

“It's not like I'm that girl's guardian or her relative. It's impossible for me to tell you where she is.”

“Aren't you comrades? I can't simply take 'I don't know' as an answer and leave. This is my job after all.”

On the first floor of the inn, in the centre of the dining area, a man and a woman stared at each other.

Hekkeran knew that woman well. Though her eyes radiated an intense ferocity, her most outstanding feature was the pair of ears on either side of her head, far longer than those of a normal human. That said, her ears were still only about half as long as those of typical Elves, marking her status as a half-Elf. Elves tended to be slimmer when compared with humans, and she had inherited this trait, having no visible curves on her body. From afar, her sex would be difficult to determine. Clad in neat leather armour without the stereotypical bow-and-quiver on her, the only weapon she had at the present was the short dagger on her waist. Her name was Imina, and she was one of Hekkeran's comrades.

The man currently arguing with Imina, though, was unfamiliar to Hekkeran. Although he appeared to be grovelling in front of Imina by lowering his head, not a single shred of sincerity could be seen in his eyes – more like disgust. For now, it appeared that he was trying to keep things civil. The man's arms and chest were packed with muscles; his appearance alone seemed able to force anyone standing in front of him to give him what he wanted.

Hekkeran weighed his options. While he did not look like the type of person who relied on violence to get things done, Imina was still capable of handling him if he did. Even though Imina didn't appear to be very strong, deep in her body dwelt a strength sufficient to take care of muscle-bound thugs.

“I _don't_ know. Didn't I already say so from the very beginning?”

Noticing that Imina's voice was starting to become strained with emotion, Hekkeran hurriedly interjected.

“What's wrong, Imina?”

Hearing the sound of a familiar voice, Imina turned her head and started when she spotted him. For a Ranger like Imina, who excelled in perception and awareness of her surroundings, not noticing Hekkeran's approach showed just how distracted she had been earlier.

“...Who the heck are you?” asked the intruder.

Having met his gaze, Hekkeran felt that the atmosphere between them was on the verge of coming to blows. However, for someone like Hekkeran, who had survived countless life and death situations, the gaze was nothing compared to the intense stares of ferocious monsters.

Imina settled back. “That's our team's leader.”

“Ooh, so _this_ is the renowned Mr Hekkeran.” The intruder smirked.

Hekkeran was disgusted by the sudden change of attitude. Even though the purpose of his visit was unknown, if he came all the way to what was considered by Hekkeran's team to be their stronghold, the chances of him not recognizing Hekkeran were non-existent. There were very few purposes for the harsh argument before, and none of them were good.

“Sorry, could you please move?”

Hekkeran jumped at the voice behind him. So occupied with the situation he had been, that he had forgotten the man with the flagon of wine. “O- Oh! Right. Sorry.”

The dark-haired man walked once Hekkeran had given him space for both cargo and himself, moving past Hekkeran and Imina towards the direction of the bar. The very same direction that the intruder was standing in, blocked between two trestle tables and their benches.

The dark-haired sailor who had followed him through town towards the Singing Apple stood in front of the intruder, his face only a fist away. “Do you mind?”

Manners dictated that the man moved, because the sailor was occupied with the flagon. The man huffed as he shifted his body to stand on the sailor's left. “You could take a walk. No need to be a milksop about it.”

The sailor smiled.

What the other saw, Hekkeran and Imina did not know, but his face immediately lost all colour. As the sailor walked to the bar and requested some cups, he returned to the argument with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“This is an inn, and you're disturbing other guests,” Hekkeran began, sensing that the argument, and the intruder's attempt at intimidation, had been somewhat derailed. In his mind, he was pondering about the mystery of the missing guests; regulars of this inn were already quite used to this kind of talk because the majority of them were also Workers in the first place. However, it was truly a rare occurrence for this place to be devoid of people. “Let's try again. Why were you yelling at my colleague?”

“I- I… I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to at first.” After managing to calm his voice down, the man attempted to speak once more. However, he instantly became quiet again when he saw Hekkeran's glare.

Hekkeran, on his part, just gave in and directly asked: “Just why on Earth are you here?”

“I'm looking for a person that Mr Termite also knows, Miss Furt.”

Hearing the name Furt, the image of a delicate-looking Magic Caster appeared in Hekkeran's mind. Even so, he found it hard to imagine that she would have any connections with this man. “Arche? Did something happen to her?”

“Arche... Ah! That's why. I got confused just then, but we're both talking about Miss Furt here, Arche Eeb Rile Furt.”

“And?! Did something happen to Arche?”

“No, no, I only wish to discuss something with her... The content of the discussion is private, that's why I wanted to know when she would return.”

“As if I would know that,” Hekkeran retorted.

For someone who was never direct when speaking, the man was briefly stunned by Hekkeran's words.

“If that's the case, the conversation is over.” Hekkeran concluded for him.

The man blinked, clearly at a loss. “I- It can't be helped then. If that's the case, I'll have to wait here.”

“Get lost.”

The door swung open behind Hekkeran.

“Miss Furt!” The man's shout caused Hekkeran to twist his neck around. There was the Magic Caster of Foresight; her companion, though, caused him to do a double-take as she walked in.

The mysterious woman with a death-grip on Arche's forearm was dressed in a shirt, breeches, a bolero jacket with sleeves moulded to her arms, and a wide-brimmed hat covered her head and nearly half her face, showing only a green eye with a slit-like pupil. The crude iron gloves on her hands seemed at odds with her relaxed clothing, though they looked like appropriate precautions for a woman against any man with less than honourable intentions. “Now, where is that rum?” she was saying, her contralto voice a thing of musical awe.

“No rum, Captain,” answered the voice of the sailor that Hekkeran had met. “But I found some wine!”

“Better than no grog. Let's find our Workers and start, then.”

“Erm,” Arche hesitated, flinching as she spotted the intruder. “I have a private discussion...”

“Miss Furt!” The man started moving towards her. “About our contract, I have come-”

“What's this?” The woman, the Captain, had physically inserted herself now. “Who are you? I came to her first.”

The man stood tall, trying to intimidate. “I have private business with Miss Furt. Kindly step aside.”

Hekkeran's eyes narrowed. Although the type of work that Hekkeran's team did was under-the-table business, he did not recognize this man, and Hekkeran had no idea why he had been sent here. He simply did not fit the profile of someone who came bearing requests. And, the implication of violence caused him to put his back up in preparation for battle.

“No,” said the woman.

The man looked taken aback. “W- What? This is none of your business.”

“I don't like you,” the woman elaborated. “Get out of my sight.”

That caught him short. Given his size, Hekkeran thought that 'No' was a rare thing spoken back to him, especially by the physically smaller. “T- This is a tavern. I should be able to bring my custom here.”

“That's right, isn't it? This is, indeed, a tavern.” An eye of viridian was cast over towards the bar. “This is also the place where bar-fights happen. Now, you can place a temporary arrest on today's affair with Miss Furt, or I will place them in an arrest far more permanent for you than for me, because you are standing between the bar and my business with Miss Furt, and you're noisy.”

“We have a priest, Captain,” Hekkeran immediately offered. If this was another thing with Arche, at least the pretty woman seemed far more willing to politely discuss the matter over dinner. “Even if he becomes gravely injured, healing magic would put that to rights. With the right price, that is.”

“We have to charge him extra, though,” Imina added. A grin was visible on her face. “Otherwise the temples would become very annoyed. We definitely don't want to attract any Assassins. Well, at the least we'll give you a discount,” she added to the man's face. “Remember to thank me for that, won't you?”

The man flushed. “If you plan on threat-”

“Oh, that's just low, retaliating on a lady.”

The words coming from the man halted midway, because he saw the dramatic change on Hekkeran's face. Hekkeran took a step forward, all the way until the distance between their faces was a fist away.

“Who's making threats? Is it such a big surprise that bars have fights? I gave you good advice for a long and healthy life, and you say we're making threats? Are you trying to start a fight?” Hekkeran's current appearance was something only people who had faced death could possess.

Confronted with the pressure coming from Hekkeran, the man took a step back. He clicked his tongue for a bit and then reluctantly walked towards the entrance. Although he wanted to hide the fact that he was frightened, one look at his hunched back was all it took to confirm it. As he reached the entrance, the man turned around shouted at Arche.

“The deadline is approaching! I want to see that money soon!”

Arche flinched, causing Hekkeran to shield her, glaring back at the man. “Hah?!”

Hearing the iron in Hekkeran's reply, the man quickly scurried away.

As soon as the man disappeared, Hekkeran's expression quickly returned to normal. The change was sudden enough that onlookers might have thought that the entire scene had been nothing but an act. Imina started clapping, as though he had really pulled off a great performance.

“That was... something,” the woman delicately commented. “Hekkeran Termite, I presume.”

Hekkeran studied her, finding a slender hunting knife being fingered in her hand. The material to wrap the handle was fish-skin, smooth as leather and patterned like scales. “Yes.”

“I am Sycorax,” she smiled, “and I have a job for you. Shall we discuss this over dinner? Nereus.”

The flagon of wine thumped. A panicked-looking barkeep set out five more trenchers of stew, along with hunks of dark rye bread and bone spoons. Sycorax sniffed, and then delicately tasted a spoonful.

“This is a delicious hedgehog goulash,” she told the cook. “I can't remember ever having had better.”

“Oh?” said the proprietor. “The name's Zimri. Do tell, when was the last time you had hedgehog goulash, miss?”

“I told you, Zimri, I can't remember.”

Zimri chuckled, leaving three Workers and two sailors seated on opposite sides of the trestle table.

Slowly, Nereus poured out wine into five cups from his flagon. “Wine?”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Nereus added a dash of water to both cups, pushing them towards Sycorax. Her eyebrow rose, but she took one, and he took the other, the two of them taking a long draught before they set the cups down and went for the hunks of bread.

“You're... together?” Hekkeran indicated, once it was clear that neither male nor female, however strange, were going to start yet, nor was it time to ask Arche about the earlier debacle.

“I captain the  _Greenheart_  at the moment. She's a lovely vessel I left at the river-port.”

“And... you said you have a job?”

“Yep.”

Hekkeran leant closer, eyes narrowing. “What kind of job?”

“Theft.”

This caused Imina to frown, Arche to look puzzled, and Hekkeran to blink. “You're thieves,” he said. “Thieves who aren't part of the Eight Fingers?”

“Pirate,” Sycorax clarified, already finished with her trencher. There was no point in being cautious here. Her karma points were always stacked to blow any plans into ashes; no matter the precautions, somehow things got... an extra bent somewhere when hijinks ensued. “Cook! Another!”

“Okay,” Hekkeran accepted that, as another trencher of stew was served and devoured in the same second with enviable speed. “So you're from out of town. I get that. And you're hiring us to steal something. But the thing is, you need to tell us what you're going to steal, from who and where.”

Quite visibly, Nereus sat straighter. “But you're interested?”

Hekkeran felt a touch of foreboding. If it was the sort of thing that could not be discussed in public, he should have selected a private room. “What will you pay us with?”

Sycorax reached up to her head. Imina stiffened, prepared to dive across the table, but Sycorax only pulled a long, thin felt bag out, the type of bag that could only hold one thing.

“A wand?” Hekkeran snorted, but Arche pulled on his gauntlet. Meeting her expression, there was... trepidation.

“For your down-payment.” Sycorax slid the wand towards him. “Have your Magic Caster run an 「Appraise Magic Item」on it. The details are wrapped in the bag. We'll meet again tomorrow to discuss this. If you reject the job, you'll have to return everything.”

Pulling on the drawstring, Hekkeran took a peek. That one peek was enough to convince him to draw it shut hurriedly. “W- What...?”

Sycorax stood up, two silver coins in her hand. “Zimri. This will cover my friends' meals, and a room for the two of us. I think they need a lot more drink to come around.”

“Right you are, love,” Zimri echoed, having already turned more pleasant as he indicated the stairs. “This way, please.”

They would wait for the details, Sycorax decided, already thankful that there was one of her summoned ravens standing in the rafters overhead, watching and listening to their decision. If only Caliban was so easy to safeguard...

“Admiral, we've reached the room. Admiral?”

“I can't help but worry about the fleet and Caliban.” Sycorax began to lament, drowning out the tapping of a beak against the wooden shutters and the struggle of a raven to get in with a letter. “Is he alright?!”

* * *

Caliban scanned his surroundings.

“I hope this is alright for you, Sir Caliban,” Gazef offered warily. “My soldiers sleep here from time to time. It might not measure up to the facilities of your mistress.”

The reason the nobles lived extravagant lives was not solely due to their love of luxury, but to show off an appearance of wealth and leisure. Despite his title of Warrior-Captain and his rightfully earned position as the Kingdom's strongest warrior, Gazef Stronoff lived in a manner befitting of Spartans. The simple room contained only the bare necessities of a bed, washstand. Its sole luxury was a「Continual Light」fixture; he might be Spartan, but he was not about to court fire in the house except at the hearth.

Caliban shrugged. “There's not much personal space on a ship. This will be sufficient.”

Gazef regarded the slender-looking man. With a compact physique under light armour and three strangely tapered swords in multicoloured scabbards hanging from the left side of his hip, no one would have expected this young man to even find the strength to wield a sword, let alone hard enough to kill several Barghests. And yet, the pelt of a Greater Barghest rested in his pack, and several of his soldiers, himself included, had gathered enough pelts to make a winter cape for each man. “You're not much for words, are you?”

Caliban remained silent.

“That's alright,” Gazef assured him. “You don't have to say anything after all. After all, I'm the foolish man who is housing a strange armed warrior in his house and trusting that nothing will happen tonight.”

“Strange? Is that so.”

Gazef turned to go. “I'll just leave you to settle before we go out for dinner, then.”

“Go out. Dinner.” A light sparked in Caliban's eyes. “Food.”

“Do you get a lot of food out at sea?”

Caliban's brow furrowed.

There were the typical logistical considerations of sea voyages – food, water, ammo, resupply points, routes, weather, and so on. A lot of the Commanders, including Caliban, had items that offset hunger and fatigue, however they had to square with the「Increased Food Consumption」penalty of all Pirates, which struck sooner or later. That was, unless they were like Ariel and Bonny (who did not eat, the former being a Storm Spirit and the latter being a Phantom), or like Cutty Sark (who could, and did, eat literally anything, up to and including, at one point, some unfortunate sailor defeated by Admiral Thousand Splendid Suns).

If the need to eat really persisted, there were preserved foods, plus the individual galleys of the fleet's ships. A large part of the  _Totara_  and  _Larch_  were magically manipulated to exist below the freezing point of ice purely for food and drink storage– a feat made manageable by the simple fact that the entire fleet was composed of magical ice. The main deck of the  _Sequoia_  grew fruits and vegetables for periodical consumption as well – mainly to offset nasty, seafarer-exclusive status conditions like Scurvy and Rickets.

The thing was, Caliban had been forbidden from revealing anything about the Fleet's operations. She he shrugged. “Mostly fish.”

“Of course.” Gazef nodded. “I'll go see if I have spare clothing. A servant will come with water for washing.”

“Thank you.”

Gazef walked out, closing the door behind him.

Caliban looked around, fingering the pure-white hilt of the Legendary-class Wado Ichimonji. There were no traps, as far as he could tell. Well, he had no classes for searching for traps anyway; that was Nereus' purview. Since all that was left was to wait for the people from Nazarick to come and find them, Caliban sat at the foot of his bed and stared at his flat shoes. Compared to Gazef's hardy, worn boots, the green Cloud-Stepping Shoes seemed like overkill, being a Relic-class Item that seemed ordinary right until its wearer started to walk on air.

Despite his quiet visage and the general air of indecisiveness that followed him, Caliban was much more introspective than he gave away. Communication issues and the matter of his getting lost was tied up; Caliban saw his destination as fixed, no matter which way he turned and walked, hence it was really immaterial where he physically went. He was smart enough to realise that other people might not see it that way, hence he had not exactly protested when his mother-progenitor had all but strong-armed Gazef Stronoff into taking him into the capital for this errand.

Meet the Nazarick delegation, the Admiral had stated. Establish cordial links, affirm that we are on the same side. However, always remember, that you are a Commander of the Fomori Fleet before you are an ally of Nazarick. Do not get too involved in their plans. It is always best that we do not get too involved, or the strange luck that follows us will strike. Do your part, and come back to us.

He only needed to wait in this city of stagnating mortal life. All was as it should be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Overlord Prologue Side Story reveals that the maximum total NPC levels per Guild base is 3,000 (without spending more cash), and only 9 bases have that level cap. So, since ships can number infinitely per fleet, I was wondering how YGGDRASIL would balance that, since gaming in YGGDRASIL seems to be an exercise in loophole abuse, information gathering, and almost unlimited sand-boxing in a completely unknown world. My hypothesis is that, while an unlimited fleet would be theoretically possible, it's not feasible after certain economics of scale, given that you need about 100 staff minimum to crew the average ship in real life.
> 
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!


	16. XV: Batten Down the Hatches

 

A carriage was quickly speeding away from the walled city. Four strong horses were pulling a large carriage – more than enough to carry six passengers. The surrounding area was unexpectedly bright, illuminated by the full disc of the moon that hung in the sky. Despite the illumination, it went against common sense to travel hastily at night. Putting up lights, making camp and setting a watch detail would have been wiser.

In the carriage was Nazarick's Butler of Steel, Sebas Tien. Beside him sat a battle-maid of the Pleiades, Solution Epsilon. Opposite them was perched the first-line Floor Guardian of Nazarick, Shalltear Bloodfallen, and two of her follower Vampire Brides sat on either side of her. Outside the carriage sat Zach, a driver that the spies had recruited for their cover in E-Rantel.

After a moment of silence, Sebas murmured: “I suppose this is what Punitto Moe-sama meant by 'plans do not survive first contact'.”

“I would like to get my fangs on the impudent pirate who got lost and arrived early!” Shalltear groused. “Calling Ainz-sama and demanding our presence when it was arranged that he was to arrive in the next two weeks, not to be already in the Kingdom's capital. Have they no shame? How dare their Fleet Admiral issue orders and requests to Ainz-sama? Even if Ainz-sama cooperates with her, this is too much! I'll chop him up and send him back piece by piece, that inferior worm!”

Sebas shifted indelicately in his seat. “As I understand it, this Caliban is in fact the personal creation of the Fleet Admiral. Given our understanding that Sycorax-sama is equal to the Supreme Beings, then Commander Caliban would be our peer. His position would be equal to Pandora's Actor, Ainz-sama's personal creation.”

“There's someone like that?” This was the first time she had heard that name. Unlike Albedo, Shalltear did not have information about all the characters in Nazarick.

“There is, but I have never met him before, since it’s impossible to reach the Treasury without a ring.” Sebas supplied. “He guards the deepest part of the Treasury of Nazarick.”

Shalltear felt her pride take a hit for not being able to guard that exalted Treasury of Ainz Ooal Gown, but she consoled herself. Stopping the invaders from reaching the third floor in the first place was also a huge responsibility, just as important as guarding the treasury. Moreover, it was the duty that had been given to her by her own creator.

“Oh...” Shalltear mumbled, apparently having lost interest until she turned to Solution. “Want to sneak a peek, Solution?”

“S- Shalltear-sama...!” Solution trembled in answer to the silver-haired Lolita's grin.

Sebastian was smiling as usual, but it was deeper than normal. “Do you want to go against Ainz-sama's wishes?”

“Kidding, just kidding. Just a joke, don't make such a scary face,” Shalltear waved a neatly manicured hand complete with pearly fingernails towards the Butler. “Sebas, since we're all travelling together, there's no need to be formal all the time. While the Supreme Beings bestowed our positions upon us, and we should respect that structure, we are fundamentally equals anyway.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Sebas advised. “What we should do is wait quietly, until the moment when Ainz-sama is willing to tell us. Shalltear,” he added.

The silent acknowledgement caused the True Vampire to nod. “You are right... Well then, did the prey took the bait?”

The sudden change in topic drew no comment, and received a direct answer: “Yes, hook, line and sinker. All that is left is reeling in the catch.”

Before heading to E-Rantel, Ainz gave Sebastian the order to 'capture humans who know martial arts or magic, but take criminals that won't pose a problem even if they disappear.' As part of the plan, Sebastian and Solution played the role of a rich wilful daughter and the butler who had to clean up her mess, waiting patiently for a fish like their driver Zach to bite. Zach was part of a gang of bandits in the Karst region, which lay en route between E-Rantel and most of the Kingdom's other settlements. Shalltear's task was to use this fish to haul in the school of fish following behind. When the letter from the Fomorians arrived, Sebas and Solution were the most well-placed to head to Re-Estize immediately, which meant that the plan, while workable, had been brought forward after many delays.

After a slight nod, Shalltear licked her lips happily, her red eyes glinting unnaturally in the dimness of the carriage as she hummed, “ _Deep, deep in the heart of the forest_ _~_ _there you'll find that circus_...”

“Regarding this part, there is something I want to ask,” Sebas added, interrupting the song, and by extension Shalltear's tone-deaf hums.

“What is it?” Shalltear demanded in irritation, having had her daydream broken. Since their lord and master had expressed a preference to simply sit in the bar on the ninth floor and listen to the Jukebox installed there, Albedo and Shalltear alike had been pursuing some form of music education to perform for him. So far, Albedo was leading with 'Koibana'.

“The driver of this carriage, could you give him to Solution?”

Mollified, Shalltear contemplated it. “In that case it's fine. He probably won't even taste good even if I sucked his blood.”

“I am very grateful, thank you for your generosity, Shalltear-sama.” Solution bowed her head, since it was impossible to fully stand in a carriage and the suspension still caused the car to rock on its wheels.

“Ah, it's no big deal. Don't mention it.” Shalltear smiled affectionately at Solution, defying the expectations of all who knew her. Following that, Shalltear gazed at Sebastian with hard eyes. “I misspoke just now, so now, we're even.”

“I understand... I never thought that you would ever do something so foolish,” Sebas admitted. “You were just joking back then.”

“You're right,” Shalltear admitted with attempted magnanimity. “If Sebas had said the same thing, I would've thought you were joking as well. I would then send my minions to spy on you without warning, chop off your limbs if you show any sign of betrayal, and drag you before Ainz-sama in chains.”

“I am not as vicious as you, Shalltear.”

“Really? That makes me more suspicious of your loyalty – I think you would absolutely do that.” Shalltear smiled.

“Well then, how do you intend to capture them?” Sebas changed the subject. “With spells like 「Paralyse」 or 「Bind Person」?”

“Ainz-sama said it would be fine to turn them into slaves after sucking them dry, but we absolutely have to catch them,” Shalltear contemplated. “Investigating one by one would take a lot of time, so I'll probably just suck them all dry to become my slaves. Ainz-sama said that dead or alive, it does not matter.”

Sebastian just nodded, a thoughtful expression coming across his face. “From this point of view, Demiurge-sama would be a better choice with his「Domination Curse」 skill.”

“... Huh?” Shalltear growled at a subsonic pitch. The atmosphere inside the carriage became heavy, covered by a chilling air. Even the horses pulling the carriage felt it, and the carriage shook violently.

The Vampires seated on both sides of Shalltear turned even paler, while Solution, who was besides Sebastian, was shivering. Sebastian, who was on the same level as Shalltear, felt goosebumps from the killing intent of the most powerful Floor Guardian in Nazarick.

Shalltear's eyes were entirely dyed in red as she contemplated Sebas. “Could you say that again? Or do you perhaps believe that in your current form you could fight _me_?”

“I misspoke, please forgive me. I was just worried that if your Blood Frenzy was activated...”

Shalltear was silent.

In YGGDRASIL, powerful races and jobs had weaknesses and handicaps. One of Shalltear's few handicaps was Blood Frenzy: the more blood her body was getting covered in, the stronger her urge to slaughter would become. Although her combat strength would increase, it came at the price of losing control over her mind. Shalltear, who might ignore orders or even lose control, had been chosen for this mission by process of elimination. Albedo had to protect the Great Tomb of Nazarick, and between the remaining two guardians Shalltear and Cocytus, Shalltear could pass for human at least from a distance. All of her advantages, however, would be rendered moot if she lost control.

Shalltear took several deep breaths, almost desperately trying to suppress her rage and unease at the possibility that Sebas had just raised. After a final, deep breath, Shalltear returned to her normal expression of seduction and lust, and her eyes returned to its usual colour.

“...I will definitely suppress the 「Blood Frenzy」.” Shalltear finally spoke. “I intend to complete this mission bestowed upon me. I wish for him to praise me as his most valuable slave.”

The carriage stopped with a violent vibration, the horses neighing softly outside. All three of Nazarick's highest echelon exchanged looks. Shalltear had to pursue this line of fishing; Sebas and Solution had to reach Re-Estize quickly to find Caliban, lest their lord's tentative alliance toppled like a house of cards.

“Well then,” Shalltear sighed, getting ready to disembark. “Time to reel it in~”

* * *

The next day saw Hekkeran Termite snap awake in a split second.

Cold sweat dotted the nape of his neck, like the condensed breath of the executioner's sword, ready to execute him. In his barely-outfitted room on the first floor of the Singing Apple, the members of Foresight remained, bags under their eyes from a sleepless night spent guarding the very valuable treasure.

“Hekkeran,” Imina nodded, still watching the room's sole window.

“Good morning.” Arche blinked, rubbing her eyes from her position on the room's only chair.

“Good morning.” The last member of Foresight greeted Hekkeran, perched on the clothes chest at the foot of the bed, hands clasped in a position of prayer to cast his barrier over the item.

Roberdyck Goltron was the oldest member of Foresight, being in his thirties. The usually hearty impression he donned in public had been cast aside for a bit, leaving his usually neat hairstyle and beard in disarray. He wore full-plate armour, sans helmet while indoors. Over the armour, he wore a surcoat embroidered with a crest. A morning-star hung from his waist, and a necklace bearing the same crest as his surcoat laid around his neck.

Even as he absently spoke his greeting, his eyes had not torn away from the thing that, upon his return to the tavern last night, had caused Roberdyck to close them all into Hekkeran's private room to safeguard. The item was a wand, made of ivory and decorated in gold. Runes were engraved in its grip, giving off a divine aura.

The Empire did not have anyone who could use Resurrection spells. Even the Adamantite-rank Adventurers of the Empire did not have such power. Of the neighbouring countries, only the Adamantite-ranked all-female Adventurer team Blue Rose in the Kingdom of Re-Estize were confirmed able to command such magic. Perhaps the Slane Theocracy had such ability as well; it was slightly more uncertain.

Yet, Roberdyck's「Appraise Magic Item」spell had verified that this item indeed contained multiple charges of the fifth-tier spell,「Raise Dead」. It was useless in the hands of Copper- and Iron-ranks, of course. For Foresight, whose members were all easily Mythril-rank, they could easily be revived, though much weakened and needing to recover; a small price for another chance at life.

Roberdyck hung his head. He wanted to help people without dealing with the bureaucratic hoops of the Temples, having left a comfortable job as a high-class Cleric of the Earth God's Temple to heal people for free. Despite his passionate inclination towards charity, though, he was able to infer the horrible possibilities that the Resurrection Wand would bring, if news ever came out that they used it. Mountains of gold and silver, pearls and jewels had been offered to Blue Rose, because what was material wealth compared to the sweet succour of life? This was an item that could promise the unpromising; a future.

Hekkeran nodded. “Right. We all agreed to this. Arche, you did not actually contribute anything to this discussion.”

“I understand,” Arche swallowed. “Truthfully, I had thought that I might end up becoming removed from the team.”

“What are you saying?” Hekkeran shook his head. “After having a Magic Caster as skilled as you join our team, it would be a huge loss for us to simply let you go. Besides, if this is the down-payment, imagine what the actual reward might be.”

Last night, the reason for Arche not changing her equipment had finally been revealed; a crushing debt, caused by wastrels of parents who had been stripped of their nobility, clinging on to their previous lifestyles. Arche had already given up on them, and was making plans to take her two younger sisters away with her. She could easily feed three to four people on her income as a Worker. With the Resurrection Wand, and a reliable fence that Hekkeran knew, Arche could not only pay off her debt and still have leftover cash even if they split their shares equally.

“I would like to clarify again that we are taking this job,” Hekkeran started. “Even if she stiffs us, if we keep the wand our pay is secured many times over, assuming we can bear to liquidate it. These are the details of our next meeting, assuming no change.”

Written on a piece of card bearing an eight-point star on the back was: _Lunch here? - S_. The card was held in Hekkeran's gauntleted hand.

“We meet her all together for the details of the mission.” Hekkeran took a deep breath. “Now, who should keep it? Sorry, Arche, but...”

“– I understand.”

“Roberdyck, you keep it, being our team's Cleric.” Hekkeran decided. “Imina, you're sure?”

“Positive,” Imina cast a look in Arche's direction, too fast for the unpractised eye to spot.

The moment they entered the common area of the tavern, though, Zimri immediately called on Hekkeran. “Oi! Message for Hekkeran Termite!”

“Huh?” With a feeling of foreboding, Hekkeran accepted the letter wrapped in a smooth material, a wax seal impressed with the same eight-point star. Tearing it open, he read the words scribbled on the same material and rolled his eyes, his finger and thumb rubbing together to fan out the contents of the wrapping; a note, with four pewter tokens of admission.

_This is the best vantage point. Noon. – S_

“Four admissions into the Grand Theatre, top seats...” Hekkeran paused. “What's on stage today?”

* * *

The usual status update had proceeded at eleven PM, and Sycorax had elected to take the first watch. It was a good choice, Momonga had pinged her again at three AM with the news that, not only had Shalltear Bloodfallen screwed up, a ranger had managed to escape into E-Rantel. It took only a moment of discussion to make another plan where the dark hero Momon, newly promoted Mythril-class Adventurer, would take on a fictional female Vampire...

「Henupenko?」

「Well, no YGGDRASIL player is going to find it out, right?!」

「No parent in _this_ world would name their daughter _that_ either! Choose another name!」

「Well, if it's so easy, then you come up with a name!」

「Erzsébet.」

「...What's with that clichéd name?」

「And Henupenko is _better_?! Erzsébet Blutsauger! Is that better?!」

「Er...」

Quickly fixing a cover story and running through it with telepathy, Sycorax completely neglected to sleep until the sun was already shining and she had to get to business. Passing by the Magic Ministry once more, she noted one vantage point and sent Nereus to buy access tokens as she went about settling accounts on behalf of the merchants of Venetus.

It was with two hours to spare that Nereus arrived next to her, dropping a pewter token and a parcel of picnic foods into her hands to bring into the Grand Theatre and watch the show. Sycorax nodded as the Thief melted away; the better to bodyguard her from the shadows. She entered the Grand Theatre of Arwintar, climbing the semi-circle of rows and rows of benches until she reached the top seat, where she sat to watch the play.

Whiling away the hours in the NPA library desk, Kaiō Michiru had plenty of time to read many books on a variety of subjects. Having been in the service for most of her life, Sycorax could still recall reading  _The Seven Basic Plots_. While she was a firm believer of every story having that element of freshness, Sycorax was quickly realising that, original or not, some things just did not change, including theatre involving creation myths and fire-bringers. That included really _long_ monologues done in public on stage, without air-conditioning.

“Not thus!” declared the actor playing the main character, the Fire God. “It is not in the fates that thus these things should end; crushed with a thousand wrongs, no! A thousand woes, I shall escape these chains. Necessity is stronger by far than art!”

“Who then is ruler of necessity?” said the chorus.

“The triple Fates and un-forgetting avengers.”

“Must the gods then yield to their superior power?”

“In no way shall he escape his destined fate.”

“What, but eternal empire, is his fate?”

“Thou mayst not know this now: forbear to inquire.”

“Is it of moment what thou keep'st thus close?”

“No more of this discourse; it is not time,” declared the Fire God. “Now to disclose that which requires the seal of strictest secrecy; by guarding which I shall escape the misery of these chains!”

Sycorax had already tuned out most of the play, which was surprisingly easy given that: first; she had bought six of the highest seats in the amphitheatre, and second; she already knew the plot of  _Prometheus Bound_. Even accounting for the Four Gods and their parents the Light God and the Dark Goddess, she was already realising the interpretation of the Earth God being the leader; so much gold on one person could only mean a royal association, given what she noted about the Goddesses of Water and Air talking about 'he who owns the land owns the air above and the ground below' etcetera.

The sun was shining at its zenith. Sycorax sincerely hoped that the Earth God was going to roast in that gold armour if this play was going to be any longer. It would at least be a diversion.

A thump sounded beside her. “You don't strike me as someone who comes to these high-style things,” the leader of Foresight commented. “Now, any reason why I had to climb about a hundred feet of stairs to get here?”

Sycorax discreetly indicated the direction of their target. “That's the target.”

Hekkeran followed the point of her finger, looking away from the semicircular open-air theatre towards possibly the most fortified part of Arwintar, bar the Imperial Palace. He could only see the thick, high curtain walls from his seat, overlooked by several watchtowers. However, he knew that it was guarded by the elites of the First Knight Order, Imperial Air Guard, and high-level Magic Casters. “Erm... you're a foreigner, so I'll forgive you, but that might be _way_ outside our level.”

“Considering you saw the down-payment, why are you so surprised about the danger of the job?”

“You have _got_ to be kidding.” Hekkeran rolled his eyes. “Be thankful that I don't have the item on me, or I would have given it back right now. What are we stealing?”

“The Grand Library.”

“I asked for the target, not the location.” Hekkeran hissed, though he could have saved his breath; on stage, the climax of the Fire and Earth Gods having their epic fight was accompanied with explosions and flashes of light to attract the audience.

“The Grand Library. All three thousand scrolls and codices.”

Hekkeran's lips parted, his neck still at ninety degrees to his body. On stage, the Fire God, having lost, was being chained to a boulder by the Air Goddess and the Earth God to die of exposure and exsanguination, despite the threats of the Water Goddess, who was swearing to forever ban humans from her domain, the Sea.

“On me the tempest falls!” lamented the main character. “O water and sun, behold me. I am wronged!”

The Magic Ministry. The place where magic equipment for the Imperial Knights are made, and where magical research such as raising the standard of living through magic experiments was conducted. The essence of the Baharuth Empire's magic knowledge was all created at Sycorax's target, and her aim was the crystallisation of all that knowledge. All that heavily guarded knowledge...

After a silent lunch and watching the remaining three gods plan and plot around each other only to end in mutual destruction, they went back to the Singing Apple where Hekkeran broke the news.

“WHAT?!” Imina tossed the cup of beer, the earthenware shattering from the force of her throw in the private room they had rented for this purpose. “The Magic Ministry Grand Library collection? Are you insane?! Did you even think about it?”

“Yes.” Sycorax replied. “I admit, it was quite a coincidence that I met such a talented Magic Caster as Arche. Coincidence brought forth our meeting.”

Arche shrunk back, despite being at the table as well. “Master Fluder taught me.”

“The Empire's strongest Wizard, Fluder Paradyne.” Imina echoed. “That...”

“Explains a few things, but not your All-Seeing Eye talent,” Roberdyck interrupted. “Arche could probably match him if she continued her studies in magic.”

Arche blushed. “I... I just worked hard. I can't do Resurrection spells, though... that's beyond me. And... Captain Sycorax...”

“Hmm?”

“You're a Magic Caster too, aren't you?”

“I'm a Magic Scribe. That part was true.”

“So you moonlight as a pirate on the side?” Hekkeran snorted in derision.

“But I can't see your true rank,” Arche clarified.

The smile faded. “You can do that.” The flat statement echoed in the silence.

“It's an innate talent held by Master Paradyne as well,” Arche replied. She was technically giving nothing away. Nothing that Sycorax could not discover herself, anyway. “It's my innate talent. You have been very straightforward with us so far. Why did you not say that you are a Magic Caster?”

“I did tell you, I'm a Magic Scribe.”

“But why hide your power?”

Sycorax pondered it for a bit. “I'm not human.”

Realisation crossed Imina's face. Her Elf father was still alive, enslaved somewhere in the Empire or already free, whether in this world or the one above. The Empire might ban human slavery, but demi-humans except Dwarves still had to fear the ball and chain.

“This-” Sycorax indicated herself, “-is quite close to the real me, but... you realise the problems of demi-humans walking in this Empire. Piracy is a fairly species-neutral job, but the  _hostis humani generis_  thing goes on. I suppose this is a side effect to bear to stay with my family.”

Sycorax knew perfectly well that this was a side-effect of the Ring of Doppelgänger on her finger, underneath the Járngreipr gloves she wore. Her innate Transformation abilities would never mask her race from the greatest Divination builds in YGGDRASIL; only with the ring could she pass as Human, with a capital H. The Ring of Doppelgänger also prevented people from spying personal information about the wearer; level, Sycorax assumed, was part of that.

“So,” Sycorax continued, “will you take the job?”

“Why do you want that collection?” Arche spoke up. “You might not actually work inside, but why would you target the Library collection? What are you looking for?”

_Everything about this strange world_. _All the world's knowledge._

“A way to turn human,” Sycorax lied.

Playing that angle managed to turn the argument in her favour, and soon she was showing them the map of the Magic Ministry she had created from Huginn's communications to her. Despite the high stakes of robbing the Magic Ministry, payment was not a problem for her – not after resolving other accounts on behalf of the merchants of Venetus. Sycorax marvelled at the ability of merchants to commit funds to anything treasonous as long as it brought them money.

_I wonder how Suzuki-san is adapting... I hope the pen nibs was a good idea for him..._

“The reconnaissance is done, captain.”

At this, all four members of Foresight fairly jumped in their seats. “When did you appear?!” Hekkeran jabbed an accusing finger at Nereus.

At this, the disguised Kelpie gave a flat look. “What makes you think I was never here?”

The Adam's apple bobbed in Hekkeran's throat. He sat back down.

“But yes, I was sneaking into the Magic Ministry,” Nereus admitted.

In silent rebuke, Hekkeran simply lifted one finger.

“Let's recap what we're dealing with,” Imina started, rolling her eyes at her colleague's immaturity. “The Imperial Air Guard. The Imperial Earth Guard. All of the Arwintar Imperial Magic Academy.”

“And Master Paradyne,” Arche added. “He is known as 'Tri-Arts', for his mastery of arcane, spiritual and divine magic. He can use spells of the sixth tier, which is the highest-possible attained by any human. He also has the talent to see a Magic Caster's rank, the same as me. Through his magic, he has managed to prolong his lifespan by over two hundred years to research the abyss of magic, his life gaol. He's the actual person in charge of the ministry, not the Minister of Magic.”

“So, we flee on sight from wrinkly old men.” Sycorax hummed, still smiling as she stood up, slowly walking around the table and the members of Foresight. “Our target is the Grand Library. Surely there's enough space.”

A hand rested on Roberdyck's shoulder. “I propose we split into two teams. I think you can procure a getaway vehicle for all six of us, and three thousand volumes.”

“I think we'll have to manage about a hundred,” Roberdyck swallowed.

“Fair enough.” Sycorax moved, now touching on Hekkeran. “You'll be the security guy and muscle. Nereus and Imina will get us in, and Arche and I will set fire to... strategic portions of the Academy.”

“Huh?”

“And then,” Sycorax continued over Arche's protests, “in the chaos to put out the fire, nobody would mind that we are all saving the very old and valuable books made of flammable parchments and papers.”

“That's... very smart,” Arche realised. “The「Continual Light」in the library might pose no fire hazard, but students sometimes stay late, and practise fire spells...”

“And today, I had Nereus place runic talismans around to increase dryness in that section,” Sycorax indicated her thief. “So the area will be extremely flammable, I daresay.”

Of course, Arche realised. A Magic Scribe specialised in inscribing magic into materials, enchanting objects permanently with her pen. And in the ensuing chaos, the talismans would burn, ideally erasing all traces of their crime until the missing books were discovered. It was a crime with virtually no victim save for the missing books, but all students were taught by Master Paradyne or his apprentices, who had to remember the books letter-perfect anyway.

She felt a lot better knowing that. At least dinner sat comfortably in her stomach before the heist.

* * *

The heist operated as planned. Roberdyck, since he stood out too much, stayed with the getaway cart. The rest of them snuck in, Nereus and Imina leading in Sycorax, Hekkeran and Arche to the Grand Library. From there, it was the matter of casting a simple fire spell to cause a giant conflagration and then yelling 'Fire!' as they carried out stack after stack of books and scrolls to their cart.

Firefighters rushed to salvage it, casting magic that caused great torrents to wash over the flames, and yet the fire raged even more, to many exclamations of panic.

“Save the books!”

“Save the books!”

“Steal the books,” Roberdyck commented as the cart was filled, rotation by rotation.

“That's all,” Sycorax commanded. “We'll hide them on the  _Greenheart_. Nereus, you follow along, lead him.” _Make sure the books actually get there,_ went the unspoken command.

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Nereus mounted the driver's seat next to Roberdyck.

Imina and Arche mounted the cart, Hekkeran following behind but hesitating as his foot rested on the footrest. “You're not coming?”

“Call it a bit on the side,” Sycorax shrugged, “but I want to know what building has golem security. Take them away.”

It was only in a fire in summer, Sycorax contemplated, that such panic could ensure that heists went unnoticed. That was the strange thing about humans and fire; valuable property, knowledge, and lives could go up in smoke, and everyone in this starless night would see it, the light and smoke and stark destruction a beacon calling the attention of every Knight, Warrior and Magic Caster regardless of their training or concerns.

At least, it seemed like July, or something resembling the dry season, according to her reckoning and the calendar that the Fleet's navigators and worked out according to the knowledge in the nautical charts. In YGGDRASIL there was a similar system that most Druids had to keep track of prior to the Constant Elements update, because their powers waxed and waned according to some weird principle of the sun and moon and stars and seasons. The record was one enterprising Druid – Butsumetsu of her guild, Sycorax recalled – tanking and fighting a raid boss by himself and winning. That was before the Constant Elements nerfed the seasonal schtick, or else the Druids would always lethal joke characters only in summer, and simply jokes the rest of the year.

Sycorax shrugged, promising to complain about all her troubles as she adjusted her hat and disappeared from sight. In the chaos, nobody minded that a man running with a sloshing bucket in his hand suddenly tripped, splashing the fruit of his labour and delaying the fire-fighters' work as she walked freely on the compound of the Magic Ministry.

The Tarnkappe on her head was an Artefact-class Item that had seen much use in the heyday of YGGDRASIL PVP. Though the item could not be imbued further with data, there lay its advantage; firstly, all job classes could equip the unadorned broad-brimmed hat, and secondly, it concealed both visual and auditory movements. Sycorax had won engagements simply by donning the hat, holding her breath underwater, and stabbing her enemy in the –

That was another matter, she decided, as she heard footsteps running after her. She turned around, blinked, and reached up to deactivate the Tarnkappe before hissing to her pursuer: “You were supposed to go with the cart!”

Arche glared at her. “You are our employer. If you are captured, then how do we know that you won't talk?”

“Ah, but I know something you don't,” Sycorax motioned to the Magic Caster.

Warily, Arche followed her, somehow dragged along by some force of persuasion towards the centre of the Magic Ministry's paved compound. “What?”

“There won't be a fire every day,” Sycorax confided. “That building looks valuable.”

Arche followed her gaze to the innermost tower. True, the whole territory of the Magic Ministry was watched and surrounded by the 1st Knight Order, teams of Magic Casters, and the Imperial Air Guard, but this night there was a large, fiery distraction for the multitude of people in and out of the other buildings.

This tower, on the other hand, was guarded by men in full-plate armour, holding shield and sword that all shone of magic, wearing red capes that glittered with the embroidered emblem of the Empire – the Imperial Earth Guard. Magic Casters with staves reflecting the light of multiple Continual Lights stood in recessed windows, temporarily blinded by the smoke drifting down from the burning Grand Library in the north to block the south. Most outstandingly, four stone golems, each as tall as a man and a half, loomed over the entrance. With no need for food nor rest and never lazing off, they were most suited for security. It was security fit for a king, or an emperor.

“Only the chosen thirty and Master Paradyne can go in!” Arche hissed. “We got what we needed, the job is over. Let's go!”

Sycorax studied her. “You know what's inside, don't you?”

Arche shuddered, tugging on Sycorax's arm again. “S- Sycorax-”

“Let's go.” Sycorax stood up, palming a steel ring from which flashcards dangled from in her jacket pocket.

YGGDRASIL was a game that depended on build maximisation to succeed. Everyone had a specific role, and generally developed towards specialising in that role. To achieve this, a lot of people would choose to stick to either fighting or crafting classes, and then find party members to play with to make up for shortfalls. Truly flexible players were rare, and were the wild cards of their parties.

Momonga was one such player. As the Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, the grapevine usually acknowledged him as one of the best ability users of the game.

Punitto Moe was another such player. On top of multiple strategies made and stacked, he was one of the best knowledge brokers of the game – when he played, that is.

In terms of lore coordination, they bowed to Sycorax.

With the World Item「Five Elements Overcoming」, the magic systems of YGGDRASIL could and did change at the drop of hats, not to mention the already-prominent contradictions present between different lore systems in using magic and weapons. In terms of mindset, Sycorax had once managed to kill a Totem Shaman with the「Magic Missile」spell after he had used the Five Elements Overcoming to change the magic systems of the game. The result had been reset in the end, yet Sycorax was still hailed as the peerless master of abusing loopholes in magic systems – which could only work if she could understand a fiendishly complicated system made by the shitty developers and adapt it on the fly with every change; like now.

“ _Laguz, Isaz,_ _Thurisaz_.” Sycorax pulled the flash-cards from the steel ring, which smoked and burnt in a small flash as they spelled the word into the air. “Take the four walls, seep and destroy, magic cannot stand against its nature –「Lith」.”

On her command, water droplets condensed on the stone golem from the dry night. It seeped into the cracks of the stone joints, gathering and pooling. The Isaz rune activated, freezing the joints with a pop of sockets before the focused destruction of the Thurisaz rune wrecked hell on the magic systems within the Golems, turning them into so much rubble.

Stone Golems had a certain immunity to magic, Sycorax recalled. Physical sabotage approximated by magic, not so much.

* * *

As chaos started with the destruction of the golems, Sycorax dragged Arche behind her, burning an Othala rune to cast a disillusion over Arche while activating the Tarnkappe. They snuck in, closing the door behind them and ran.

It's just a straight passage, thought the pirate before they reached a room crowned with a hemispherical dome, and stopped, causing Arche to crash into her back.

There were dozens of Skeletons performing farm work; raising hoes and swinging it down. The movements of all the Skeletons were perfectly in sync; if one were to look from the side, they would only see one skeleton moving. It looked just like the icons on a tactical RPG, only more macabre.

Arche shrank back at the sight of the grand project the Empire was conducting in secret: 'using undead as labourers'.

“Ah,” Sycorax merely commented.

Her tone drew Arche's ire. “This is a whole mass of Skeletons!”

Sycorax's lips twitched. The grimoire「Skeleton Crew」was very popular with Captains. More than one rich Pirate had abused this grimoire to crew their ratings, and save the NPC levels for custom NPCs in more specialised departments. “Skeletons merit so much protection?”

“Stronger Undead always spawn from areas with Undead already present,” Arche hurriedly explained, shuddering as a disturbing aura swept around. “As more Undead like Zombies gather, that area can form a stronger Undead, thus gatherings of even stronger Undead can form even stronger ones, so on and so forth.”

“Ah,” Sycorax said. “Wonder what's the strongest one here.”

She grinned at Arche. “Let's find out.”

The disturbing aura came from the door on the opposite side, guarded by a lone knight who was easy enough to knock out. The other side of the door was a passage, but the presence of humans was gradually draining away; the air smelled laden with dust, and the light from torches at regular intervals fading against the darkness.

“「Dark Vision」.”

“「Dark Vision」.”

Arche and Sycorax spoke almost instantaneously.

“「Create Middle-Tier Snake: Snake Servant」,” Sycorax added another spell. “「Bubble Head」.”

The rattling of sand and the raspy whispers echoed in the passage, causing Arche to jump as the humanoid half-man half-snake arose, a sabre loosely held in each arm.

“Guard the rear.” Sycorax commanded, her voice distorted as the air in the immediate vicinity of her head cleared.

“As my lady commands,” The snake-warrior hissed.

“Come on, Arche.” Arche blinked, her curiosity disrupted as Sycorax took her hand and dragged her along the passage.

It extended straight ahead, and connected to a staircase that spiralled down. As they passed through the doors along the way, the time between the patter of boots echoing in the confined depths was rather short.

The stairs only extended five levels below ground; the heavy atmosphere made it seem longer. At the lowest level, the tension seemed so high that Arche found herself readied for battle as they approached a pair of heavy doors at the end, heavy enough to separate another world, padlocked and chained and magicked with rows and rows of engraved spells.

“A really great undead must have spawned,” Arche hypothesised, starting to murmur a protection spell. The numerous heavy doors they snuck through on the way was telling of the danger in here. Those doors were made to keep things out... and to keep things _in_.

“「Spell Appraisal」.” Sycorax murmured, casting the revealing spell. She frowned, the tips of her fingers spreading out, running through her options before deciding: “Eh...「Spell Intercept」.”

“What are you _doing_?” Arche hissed at her as light restructured itself, a rudimentary writing board forming out of hard light to shimmer before Sycorax.

“I'm a Magic Scribe. Not a Thief, but this would help to pick the magical locks,” Sycorax murmured, twitching aside the seals before drawing her Derringer and shooting the chain.

“And that explains many things.”

The one speaking was a stooped old man with a long white beard, who had just entered. He still had a full head of snow white hair. His age was shown on his face as wrinkles, and the light of wisdom could be seen in his eyes. On his neck was a necklace made with numerous crystal balls. On his dried up fingers were several plain rings. The loose white robe he wore billowed in the gloom.

The Snake Servant spat back, rearing to attack.

Arche gasped, her voice carrying in the tension-laden air. “Hurry!”

“Invisibility... no, not only「Invisibility」,” the old man softly murmured. “A spell that redirects attention, forcing a trick that hides in plain sight. As skilled as you are, though, you will not be able to handle what lies beyond that door. Turn back.”

“Fluder Paradyne, I presume,” Sycorax whispered back. “Too late.”

The heavy door opened slowly with a  _gong_. Something akin to cold air spilled out from the dark interior, along with hatred. From her position, Sycorax could see that the room was narrow, and illuminated immediately by Continual Lights. A giant pillar that reached the ceiling stood within, prominently in the centre. However, there was something inside that drew even more attention.

Arche gave a small whimper.

The thing was completely bound by chains thicker than a man's thumb. The ends of the chains were secured by boulders, large cast iron balls were tied to each of its limbs in addition. It was logically impossible for any being to move in such excessive restraints.

Arche swallowed. She was certain that this being could shatter its bonds and gain freedom easily, the legendary undead:

“Death... Knight.”

It had the appearance of a knight wearing black full-plate armour. Its massive body made it tower easily over the tallest of men. Its black armour bore engravings like blood vessels, and spikes jutted everywhere possible to put the black thorns. Demon-like horns sprouted from its helmet, and its rotted face could be clearly seen. The hollow eye-sockets glowed bright red, from its hatred of the living and its thirst for carnage. It was not a living being; but something dead – that was the only possibility for something to hold such hatred for the living.

Having been relegated to the realm of legends, the name of this undead was not well known. Arche was an elite Magic Caster, and she could at least use 3rd Tier magic, but right now her teeth were chattering too hard to chant.

“Control your will. A weak soul will be greeted with death,” Fluder warned as he approached them, only to jump back as the Snake Servant gave a warning lunge. At the movement, the Death Knight unleashed its bloodlust in response, and moved its limbs. The chains creaked, as if it gave a moan, but the body only moved slightly.

“Such a weak death cannot take my will.” Sycorax took off the Tarnkappe in a show of bravado. She was visible now, but she still held onto Arche's arm, maintaining the Othala rune-spell shimmering at the point of contact.

Fluder Paradyne blinked. The one who appeared had silver hair cascading down a cape of black. The rest of the intruder was obscured, though only one right eye glittered green underneath the broad-brimmed hat, its slit-like pupil winking in the gloom. The head lifted, revealing the imposing eye-patch over her left eye set into white skin and a fine-boned face. “How unexpected. You have guts, thief. To face a Death Knight and still be unaffected.”

“This stupid thing?” the female thief smiled, beckoning at the Death Knight. A slip of paper burned in her hand.

Neither Fluder nor the thief flinched as the Death Knight caught fire.

“A legendary monster is a foolish thing to you, it seems.” Fluder admitted, staring at her over the creature's bellows. “I can't see it?”

“The magical talent to see magic potential, I assume.” The thief smiled. “Forgive my rudeness, but the circumstances are unique.”

Fluder snorted. In other circumstances, hiding a magical talent would be rude and pointless; it was difficult for the average Magic Caster to discern another's strength. Ordinary Adventurers would not need to use this, and thus few people would bother taking precautions against such situations. Besides, it was rude to be casting this kind of defensive magic while meeting with someone. A thief, however, had to take all precautions, no matter how openly she showed her face. “Thieves are the type to take unneeded precautions, either way. Thieves are rarely Magic Casters at the same time, though. Especially not Magic Casters capable to burning a Death Knight to... death.”

The Death Knight screamed, moaned and died in a conflagration of flaming ash.

“Regretful,” Fluder murmured, morose for the death of his specimen. “I captured that by repeatedly casting「Fire Ball」while flying. Much resources were invested in restraining and controlling it.”

“My apologies, guv'nor.” She sounded bored and amused. “Why would anyone want to control a minor thing like Big and Ugly, anyway?”

“Minor thing?” Fluder repeated. “If I succeed, I will surpass  _that N_ ecromancer and the Thirteen Heroes. I would become the greatest Magic Caster in history.”

“Power? That's it?” She asked.

“Power? Not at all.” Fluder clarified. “My life's work, you see, has been devoted to peering into the abyss of magic and its infinite possibilities. Not that it is relevant for a thief bound for the gallows such as yourself to know.”

“Infinite possibilities sounds very well and good, but I gotta say, that means success and failure are both possible.” The thief pointed out. “So all your successes and all your failures won't last to see your abyss no matter how long you live.”

Fluder opened his mouth, and then paused in thought. “I've never heard about it spoken like that.”

The thief raised her hand, slowly biting her index finger and pulling off the crude iron gauntlet that covered her hand. On her hands sparkled rings; magic artefacts.

“Take it from someone who knows,” she said, and bit onto a ring, wrenching it off of her finger and revealing her true form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines from the play are adapted from the Ancient Greek play [Prometheus Bound](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prometheus_Bound), as mentioned, and regionalised to account for the different religion in the Baharuth Empire.
> 
> As for the mention of the calendar, Volumes 5 and 6 are written to take place over the 3rd through 10th days of the Month of Descending Fire (9th month), which I assume is an alternative calendar. A google search on Descending Fire reveals the [Exalted Calendar](http://rpg.wikia.com/wiki/Exalted_Calendar), which is 425 days long – 28 days per month over 15 months, plus 5 days for calibration. The month of Descending Fire is typically the hottest month of the year, taking place right before the 5-day Calibration, which is the time when spirits are strongest and the gods are playing. Since YGGDRASIL is based on RPG elements, I assume an alternative calendar also plays in, which leads to Sycorax's conundrum; for her fleet to be effective, she needs the following: a working calendar, a good chronometer, and a nautical almanac (which hasn't been invented) to navigate by the stars. She needs a lot more information about the New World than Momonga, who can just play his way as an adventurer.
> 
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!


	17. XVI: Bowsprit

Nagato, the Fleet Admiral's Quartermaster, contemplated the assortment of characters that formed the intelligence department of the Fleet. There was her sister Ship Girl, Mutsu. There were two out of the three Hags that served as her assistants; Sakuya and Vasilisa, both accomplished Diviners. Yaga, their reclusive older sister, was probably off doing her thing elsewhere. There were a troop of scribes of various heteromorphic races – most things that could hold an astrolabe and intelligent enough to know its use were with their department.

The Fleet's navigation department – the crew of the  _Queen_ , in other words – was assembled on the main deck for the announcement, before the first watch was to take place across the nine ships of the Fleet. Across the nine ships, dinner was already concluding; Ariel's and Phaeton's minions in the air already dissipating the smoke trails with wind magic above, and Cutty Sark closing up the galley stoves aboard the  _Totara_. Merry's shipyard had already built quarters on land, so Cutty and Prospero were going to move the more dangerous concoctions inland and away from the precious ships.

Nagato hummed in pleased contemplation. The First and Fifth Divisions had already set the bought poultry and livestock loose on Pantaleone as a temporary measure to ensure a steady supply of animal goods. Explorations inland were revealing more resources than first thought; forests, volcanoes, hot springs and ice floes, for one. The Sixth and Seventh Divisions had work was cut out for them for the next few months, just like Nagato's navigation department and the Fourth Division were going to be data-mining once the books of the Arwintar Grand Library came in.

As she looked back to her notes, the glass bells rang in time across the tiny island that they were moored in, echoing with the other ships of the fleet as the others aboard waited for the schedule.

_Ting-ting..._

_Ting-ting..._

_Ting-ting..._

_Ting-ting..._

Eight times the bell rang, to signal the end of the last dog watch and start of the first watch; eight o'clock. Then, only then, did Nagato activate the conference spell,「Four Winds Messenger」.

“Order, order,” Nagato started. “This is Quartermaster Nagato, here to announce the day's news. First on the agenda is the matter of the fight between Cook Cupcake in the First Division, and Mr Groat in the Fifth Division. Now, while we all agree that the everyone is permitted to seek promotion, within their own department alone. Mr Groat has no skill in neither cooking nor pharmacy. All of us can therefore concede agree that an attack on Mr Cupcake was unwarranted, and more of a _sideways_ move than up the ladder of the steward's department. Which means that Mr Groat's attempt at promotion, unsuccessful it was, may be discounted. Which means no, Mr Cupcake, you may not kill Mr Groat until Nereus is back to settle this dispute, or we take it to the Admiralty Court.”

“You heard that, punk!” A hulking Dragonoid, representing the First Division in absentia of Nereus, bellowed across the _Queen of the Night's_  quarterdeck towards the  _Cedar._ Directly after, a silver-skinned Troll, still scraping tar off of his claws, tossed the black substance that fell short and hit into the rushing waves of high tide.

Nagato let the hubbub and clamours for a fight continue for a brief moment before she spoke. “Settle down, we're not done.”

Grumbling, the ironically named creation of Vice-Admiral Android OS sank onto the capstan of the  _Queen_.

“An additional warning to all crews, fighting is not allowed shipboard,” Nagato clarified, sensing a duel in the offing. “Get ashore before exchanging blows, or taste the cat.”

Of course, she thought, the fighting of the crew was always about promotion. In any large gathering of sentient beings, a hierarchy would form. Pirates were not exempt from this. All Pirates belonged in YGGDRASIL to the Net of Rán, Norse robber-goddess of the violent seas, scourge of Rán's road and so forth. Technically, Pirates were also a subset of the Ægir Fraternity, but Rán's Net generally did its own thing and had its own rules, chief amongst them including the Articles of Agreement that everyone in the pirate crew got a vote, and a share of the earnings depending on their place in the crew. Though they might profess equality of status on the high seas, some pirate captains were still richer than others. Some pirates controlled ports in YGGDRASIL, some pirates stuck to mugging hapless newbies.

The same principles of hierarchy applied to the Fleet and its retinue. The Admiralty were the exception, since they technically owned everything, _including_ the crew. So, in the Fomori Fleet, the social structure was understood like this:

The Admiralty were at the top. That meant the Fleet Admiral, the four other Admirals, the nine Vice-Admirals and the twenty-three Rear-Admirals. They were the powers of the sea, the highest authority, literal gods who had created the fleet. They were separate from the rest of the crew, the closest thing to a divinity these fearless and godless Pirates held. Everything was theirs on request; not often asked, but understood.

The Command was at the next level, encompassing the Quartermaster, the Division Commanders, the Treasury staff aboard the  _Sequoia_ , and the Navigation and Intelligence departments aboard the  _Queen of the Night_. It was generally understood that, while these officers were to be respected, horrible accidents happened at sea all the time and look, a spot on the chain of command could open at any time! Though, it must be said that assassinations were neither easy enough to conduct without being spotted on a tall-ship, nor as easily forgiven as Groat's attempt on the  _Heart of Oak_ 's cook.

The Officers, including the Grand Orchestra of the Seventh Division, were the next rung, because not respecting the people who fed, clothed, fixed and entertained you was just asking to be starved to death and dangled from the yardarm as _their_ entertainment. The Officers and the Command were also a nebulous lump that were technically equals, but were treated differently based on their status as either a personal creation of the Admiralty, or simply a mercenary NPC assigned to the task at hand.

The petty officers and the ratings were at the bottom of the barrel. Most of them were Skeletons and other mobs, that did busywork without the skills needed to be promoted, or the motivation to promote themselves. Some of them, such as the Nereids, were personal creations of the Admiralty that served other functions of the Fleet.

“In other news: our Fleet Admiral has begun a heist for the materials of this Empire,” Nagato got to the news that had her elated in anticipation of work other than taking sight lines of stars at sunrise and sunset. “All navigation department officers are to standby for data mining.”

“As expected of the Fleet Admiral!” Sakuya quavered. “Will we need the Torturers?”

“No. She is stealing the contents of the Grand Library. The Fourth Division will need to be on hand to handle grimoires. Commander Bonny, please send over Second Mate Read.” Nagato parsed through more of her notes. “Third note: Third Division Commander Caliban is still without inhuman company in Re-Estize. It seems like the roads between E-Rantel and E-Pespel have been blocked due to a vampire emergency, leaving the delegates from Nazarick stranded to protect their identity. Caliban himself is alright with Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff, and has tried to start his own investigations into the underworld of the Kingdom. However, we should all endeavour to wait for the connection to be established once Caliban uses the「Compass Rose」and「Gate」scroll entrusted to him.”

“It's been a while, ma'am, beg pardon,” Sakuya raised her hand. It was almost odd, seeing the oldest-looking Hag amongst the three quaver before a young woman, until you realised the difference in rank between them. “What is delaying the Commander?”

“He might not be able to find privacy. I have been told that being followed everywhere seems to be a common condition that develops with the people that first meet Caliban, so it should fall to no surprise that everyone he meets wants to ensure that he doesn't get lost walking down a straight hallway.”

It was not a promising answer, but Sakuya's hand fell back onto her lap. Most of the navigation department now exchanged nervous looks at the prospect of Caliban being permanently lost on land.

Nagato took a deep breath. “Final announcement: the Merman Navy has been sending sentries around Pantaleone. Nereids, please keep a lookout, and immediately kill any sentries that get too close to our fleet's lagoon. The Second, Fourth and Fifth Division will remain on standby for the possibility of an assault to defend the island, though skirmishes will likely be undersea in nature.”

Settled on the gunwales, two of the Nereids – a Water Sprite and a Mermaid wearing armour – high-fived, clenching their talons in anticipation.

“That will be all. Quartermaster Nagato signing off. Begin watch.”

One of the more muscular ratings of the Fleet flagship, the Evil Lord Officer Boruta leant close to his subordinate, Leshy as Nagato stepped down from the quarterdeck. “I bet I'd be a better Quartermaster than _her_.”

Without looking back, a blued-steel gun appeared in Nagato's hand, and she aimed it behind and pulled the trigger in the same fluid motion. The mana bullet bit through Boruta's scaled hand, causing him to howl.

“Mutineers hang, Junior Third Mate Boruta,” Nagato slowly imparted, putting away one of the four guns that formed her initial equipment rather than the full rig of sixteen-inch guns that Rear Admiral prepared. “Be lucky you still have a neck to hang from. It's your shift.”

“Why, I'll-”

“You totally deserve that,” the Dryad told Boruta, moving towards a pile of ice ropes that needed melting, freezing and re-splicing. “Come on. Heave ho!”

Pretty soon, the main deck of the  _Queen of the Night_ , flagship of the Fomori, was ringing with “ _Fifteen Men on a Dead Man's Chest, Yo-ho-ho and a Bottle of Rum!_ ” A bit further, more of the crew joined in with the refrain, the asynchrony of the song a celebration of their merry lives and short lives.

Mutsu followed her sister-ship to the  _Queen's_ poop deck. They stood in silence, to contemplate the comparatively balmy, if nippy, night where the winds changed their course at the coastline.

Nagato wanted a hot bath and a nap, not exactly in that order. “I hope Nereus has it better than me. Watching one Admiral must be nice...”

“Neither of us could follow the Admiral this time, but next time is always possible, Nagato.” Mutsu commented. “This is just a respite, after all.”

“It is.”

Nagato watched a few of the captain's gigs, sleek boats of magically manipulated ice casting ghostly silhouettes over the surface of the littoral waters. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted more than one Nereid rise from the ocean to cavort, but then relaxed as she noted that those sisters were off-shift. Everyone could have shore leave – Nagato had even taken the  _Copperhead_  with Mutsu and the three Hags, whom the Admiral called the Weird Sisters, and they had gone for drinks.

For a wandering fleet like theirs, setting up a base was still the first step. Their fortunes had been answered in the original lagoon that they had run aground on – wide, varied, bountiful, and fairly isolated. Even a swarm of Mermen would have to give way before the Admiral's storm.

The next step was resources – though they had enough to last probably to the end of time, amassing more and saving for a rainy day still made the most sense, especially since the ships made by One Piece somehow came with theoretically infinite cargo holds. The plan to amass resources could be done all on the island, but it would take more time. While they did have the luxury of time, there was still the matter of 'common sense' – without intimate knowledge derived from meeting and talking to people, a fleet could do nothing, especially a pirate fleet like theirs that depended on knowing the trade routes. Plunder could not be attained if none of them knew the routes or, gods forbid, the routes _did not exist_ on the sea because of the Merman Navy.

If it were the latter, the Admiral was going to call for coastal raids. Her creator had always advocated battle. Nagato infinitely preferred battle. Battle was better than dying in that flash of light-

“What is that landscape, deep inside my memories?” Nagato whispered. “Friendly and enemy ships, and then that intense light... I must be stressed out from all that planning.”

Mutsu leant next to her. “What's so good about plans? We've been fine without them before. Right now, there is no battle, no waiting, no injuries, no lack in anything. Better than in battle... this state of affairs is good.”

Nagato contemplated her words. “Do you remember that last night on Mimisbrunnr? When the Rear-Admiral came, and he argued with Admiral Titania?”

“Oh, my. They do that all the time, don't they?” Mutsu's eyes glittered. “There was a phrase. Vice-Admiral Checky said it... do you remember?”

“Quote, 'For two people with het-porn on the brain, you guys are seriously oblivious', unquote?” Nagato recalled.

Mutsu jabbed a pointer finger at her sister-ship. “Before that one.”

“Quote, 'If you're not going to clear out of the galley, can you two take your belligerent sexual tension elsewhere?', unquote?” Confusion was written across her frown.

“That phrase. Belligerent sexual tension.” Mutsu contemplated it for a moment. “What does that mean?”

“From pure deduction with reference to the Kanji Dictionary, we can assume that they bring their battles to the bedroom as well.” Nagato replied.

Both girls contemplated this.

“Their shipboard quarters are both aboard the  _Spruce_ , right?” Mutsu finally said.

“Yes,” Nagato reluctantly admitted. “It is for the best, on hindsight. The  _Spruce_  can afford to get torn apart. That is, assuming that we will find the other Admirals.”

Mutsu hummed in agreement. “But what do the Admirals have to do with this?”

“Is it fine for things to remain like this?” Nagato pondered. “Between us lies the chance that all will be right, and all will be wrong. My purpose is to protect the crew, so I wonder.”

“Well, Nagato is different from the other officers and commanders,” Mutsu considered. “The Rear-Admiral created us sisters, but made you the Fleet's Quartermaster. Unlike the other commanders, who can simply accept orders, it is your purpose to question the decision and represent the crew. It is Nagato's job to discipline and enforce. However, to question even the Admiralty that is supposed to be beyond reproach... is this your question? That Nagato won't be a good Quartermaster to the Fleet Admiral? I for one don't think the Fleet Admiral would mind.”1

Yet, in battle the captain's word is martial law, Mutsu reflected to herself. In that situation, then they had been in a state of war ever since they came to this world, and this was only the calm before the storm.

* * *

Nereus nodded as the entire cart of books got dumped into the tiny warehouse that the Admiral had rented. The duplicitous market for salt had opened a fair bit of business inland, and therefore the Admiral had plenty of cash to spend after transactions through three cities.

“A warehouse?” Hekkeran commented once the last of the books had been moved in, the cart poised to leave. “Kind of shabby.”

“We'll go return the cart,” Roberdyck whispered, still clutching the long reins. “And then we'll go find Arche. Why did your Captain stay behind?”

“The Captain is a mysterious creature,” Nereus smirked at Imina.

The half-Elf scowled. “Doesn't matter. If she gets caught, we all go down for theft and treason.”

“Yes, so Roberdyck, you're going to drop me off at the Singing Apple on the way so I can pay off Zimri,” Hekkeran arranged. “You...”

“I'll guard it.” Nereus spoke.

“Fine. See you tomorrow.” The cart rolled away.

Nereus relaxed after checking his surroundings, entering the warehouse and closing the door behind him, letting his night vision take over. Regardless of whether Foresight were going to betray them or not, it no longer mattered, now that he was alone in the rented warehouse on Admiral's orders.

Practically speaking, the two of them could easily hold any items in their subspace pocket, or simply put everything aboard the  _Greenheart_. There was no need for a warehouse to hold goods and cargo. Their true aim was to secure an area to cast two spells, and therefore resolve the problem of having to cross a large area to reach Nazarick and return, as well as start a network.

Unlike the ground, people often held an image of freedom and wide, open space when it came to the seas and skies. However, reality was different; as the terms like sea route and airway suggest, the sea and sky had fixed routes as well. Focus was usually placed on the shortest distance in order to minimize fuel costs, but that was not always possible.

That was the reason why Nereus was currently casting「Compass Rose」from a scroll. A normal magic scroll could only be used if the user possessed a class that could use the same branch of magic as the scroll. This spell, in normal circumstances was only available to travelling classes and Magic Scribes specialising in cartography – a rare subset in YGGDRASIL. However, some thief-based classes had the skills to disguise the list and deceive the scroll. As a Level 100 Thief, Nereus had more than the requisite skills to hack a scroll, even「Compass Rose」.

The eight-point Rose of the Winds appeared, glowing in mid-air, surrounded by a magic circle. Similarly, unknown to human eyes, three other points along the Lisia River sparkled with the Compass Rose, connecting the magical network of reference points together across the terrain of the Baharuth Empire.

In the grand cabin of the  _Queen of the Night_ , three Hags, three of the Winter Sidhe, cackled as, on their temporary map of the Baharuth Empire, three points starred themselves across the blank space, and were joined by a fourth, with a word written next to it:

_A rwintar._

Back to the topic of sea routes and airways.

While intra-world flying and sailing was easily accomplished, _inter_ -world movement was a different story. For example, to cross the Nine Worlds held up by the World Tree, there were few paths. One option was a Fairy Ring, which could randomly dump you anywhere in the Nine Worlds, including where you started from. The other option was to depend on the untimely mercies of the Knock-Up Stream or Knock-Down Torrent at the farthest gates of each World. An easier option was「Greater Teleportation」for individuals, but that was clearly infeasible for a fleet of ships – and if an astral squall started between worlds, then the spell-caster was liable to be whisked to the opposite ends of the cosmos from the destination. The developers really thought of everything.

「Compass Rose」would act like a save point, marking a reference point on the map of the Nine Worlds and acting as a connection between two selected points. Therefore, anyone who held the map could open a 「Gate」at one point to connect to any arbitrary point on the map of their choice. This spell was useful in marking a course by dead reckoning across multiple maps, and setting up a intermondial network. There was even an achievement for this: 「Milliarium Aureum」.

After the legendary gruelling climb up the World Tree to Asgard, Hostis Humani Generis had managed to land the title of First Circumnavigation of the Nine Worlds, beating out World Searcher. It had netted them an easy way to travel across worlds and easily deploy their fleet at any point, which also allowed them to get the achievement of First Complete Topographical Map of the Nine Worlds (¥3,999 retail on the YGGDRASIL market).

With 「Compass Rose」set, Nereus simply held up another scroll to activate the next spell. “「Gate」!”

A shadow emerged from the ground. Slowly, it shifted form into the shape of a door, allowing an individual to emerge.

She wore a skimpy high-collar white uniform, complete with pencil skirt. Her sleeveless top was embellished with a black metal bodice, her legs covered with red and black stockings up to her thighs. The stockings were held up by a garter belt trailing underneath her thighs, leading down to heeled boots up to her ankles. Her red eyes sparkled with an inner light, almost like twin pinpricks of LEDs in the darkness, framed with long black hair. Twin spires rose like horns from her temples.

Another woman walked behind her in the same getup, though her hair was short and brown like her eyes, pretty and flirtatious. Both of them looked like young women in their prime, and that was what they were, in a sense; fully-grown battleships that had survived wars and times, complete with the displacement to match.

“Battleship Nagato-class name ship, Nagato, reporting for sortie.” said the dark-haired girl.

“Battleship Nagato-class second ship, Mutsu,” the light-hearted Ship Girl winked. Don't play with fire too much, okay?”

“When did the Admiral sortie the two of you?!” Nereus asked, partly out of teasing and partly out of concern for the fleet's resources.

“Well, we're not expected to be in battle, are we?” Mutsu walked over to a stack of crates, easily lifting al the crates in her hands. The sight was jarring, seeing the well-endowed if rather slender girl lift the crates of flour and cloth without effort. “And in physical strength, Nagato and myself are amongst the strongest, even if our jobs don't really let us do heavy work.”

“Mutsu, there'll be time to catch up later.” Nagato tossed two whole stacks of stolen, smoke-scarred books through the Gate. “Nereus. Where is the Admiral?”

“Er... she told me to move ahead...” Nereus wilted. “Well, who am I to countermand orders? She told me to open the Gate!”

Nagato closed her eyes, breathing hard through her nose before she threw another stack of crates through the magical Gate. “You don't have enough manpower. I get that. We will clear this place, and then you will go and  _find her_. You will then stick to her like a human burr, for so help me, if the last of the Admiralty goes on our watch we're all going to die!”

“Aye-aye, Quartermaster,” Nereus snorted with a small whinny, tossing a sack of potatoes through. “Did you know that the potatoes are paid for in  _gold_?”

Nagato stuck her head through the Gate. “The potatoes cost gold. Second Mate Read, arrange a planting schedule with the Seventh Division on Pantaleone. I need a troop of able seamen to secure the Admiral.”

Nereus winced at the sound of roaring men in disapproval. He then frowned as a touch of magic thrummed in his head. “Someone's at the  _Greenheart_. The sentry took them down, but...”

“Yes, Commander Nereus was rather short-handed. The Eight-Edge Assassins would do.” Nagato pulled her head out. “I'll find the Admiral. You take care of the boat.”

As Nereus ran out, Nagato raised a hand, beginning to cast a 「Message」.

「Admiral, where are you?」

* * *

It was interesting, how the same event could have multiple perspectives.

To Arche, Sycorax taking off the ring simply changed her form first. So Sycorax grew scales, and her green eye turned clear, and her legs turned into a tail, but nothing essential really changed. Everything fitted with the idea of a demi-human using magic to escape persecution in a human-dominant land. Her talent kicked in then.

To Sycorax, it was simply removing a ring, revealing her item-manipulated form. Her ring glittered between the pads of her thumb and index finger. Her nose wrinkled as a flash of light signalled the Othala rune breaking, and then Arche was on all fours on the ground, retching.

“Oh, my. Are you alright?” Most people would assume from Sycorax's relaxed tone that she was unconcerned. That was untrue; as any member of Hostis Humani Generis could tell, Sycorax the Heartbreaker just expressed things differently. It made her look even weirder amongst them, but they were all odd, so the leader of such a ragtag band would obviously be the weirdest.

Sycorax blinked as a thunk resounded, turning around to see the old man kowtow. “And what happened to _you_ now?”

Sycorax knew the talent that both witnesses shared: the All-Seeing Magical Eye, capable of reading a Magic Caster's relative level of strength. What she did not anticipate were the physical reaction of reading such an indicator. After all, she had minimal experience living in a world where magic was real. Therefore, Sycorax did not know that the two Magic Casters had been unable to withstand the combination of terror and stress caused by seeing the enormous magical power surrounding her, leading to their extremely adverse reactions.

Fluder felt something warm flow down his cheeks. He did not bother wiping it off – rather, he no longer had the strength to do so. The shock had caused his emotions to descend into chaos.

“I know I don't exactly look human, but there's no need to actually _throw up_ ,” the goddess of magic blithely continued in offence.

“What... what... how is this possible?” What happened in front of his eyes was unexplainable. Even Fluder, who had lived for over two hundred years, someone who had reached the highest peak of magic attainable for humans, could not understand what was going on.

“You mean breaking in?” Sycorax chirped. “Well, it turns out that if you set fire to one part of your complex on a dry night, everyone's too busy putting out the fire to notice us sneaking in and out, if you catch my drift.”

“You're mad!” Fluder ejaculated, awe swept aside in a rush of confusion, sensing a change in the winds.

“Very well, I confess.” Sycorax's rapid-fire cadence took on a different meaning. “It is my intention to commandeer your Grand Library, pick up a crew in Venetus, and then raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfer my weaselly black guts out. Attack!”

The Snake Servant swiftly dove, its crescent-bladed scimitars making a dive for Fluder's legs – regardless of the puddle of sick between them. Sycorax grabbed Arche by the scruff of her neck and hoisted the smaller Magic Caster in a fireman's carry, before she started run- _sliding_ for the stairs.

Arche's fingers gripped onto her iron staff and Sycorax's shoulders. She blankly watched the tail under Sycorax's cloak disappear, and with it the immense magical power. “You're... not really a Magic Scribe, are you?”

“Oh, I am. Just not employed here.”

Arche let that go as Sycorax climbed the stairs. “This is either madness, or brilliance.”

“It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide,” Sycorax agreed once she was at the top of the stairs again, running down the first straight passage before chanting the dismissal spell for her summon. “Sheesh, did he have to roast the guy?”

“Wait,” Arche's voice reluctantly recovered. “What about the Skeletons? The Undead?”

“What do you mean, they're-” Sycorax cut off as Fluder popped into existence, having apparently used「Teleportation」to waylay them. He started a short chant, before his hand indicated the Skeletons still moving in synchronisation.

“That's... a modified version of「Summon Undead: Sixth Tier」,” Arche realised. “Meant to control lower-ranked Undead.”

“I'm so glad you can understand it, then,” Sycorax murmured, deciding on her options. Brute force or not, Fluder Paradyne's attention was completely here, and her hands were occupied. “Sorry.”

“What for- eh?!” Arche exclaimed in surprise as she was dumped onto the ground, right as Fluder finished his chant.

“—「Obey」.”

The Skeletons stopped their movements. As one, their bones creaked, skulls turning towards the pair. In answer, Sycorax's ring of flash-cards fanned out.

“ _Othala,_ _Berkano_ –「Ob」 _,_ _Mannaz,_ _Ingwaz,_ _Algiz_ –「Miz」!” she tore two slips out with her lips and let them fall, burning as the stored magic within the pages activated. The paper began to burn as she let it fall.

The paper that finished burning first sparked a halo of intensely bright light, spreading into a circle that spread along the ground under their feet. The Skeletons gave a shudder in unison, breaking and cracking apart.

The second paper finished burning, creating a dome of pale green around Arche. Colour immediately returned to her face, a healthier colour that did not wane even as the Magic Caster got to her feet.

By the time she was on her feet, the fight was already over, the Skeletons reduced to so much dust and powder. Fluder's fireball seemed muted, in the bright circle delineated by the runes of land inheritance and the birch-goddess.

Fluder looked disappointed and intrigued, all at the same time. “Magic Scribes are usually glorified bureaucrats, but it seems like you're using more than that. Simply a con artist with illusion magic, is that it? Is that... a grimoire that you're tearing apart?”

He sounded shocked. Perhaps by the fact that immeasurably valuable knowledge was being torn apart for temporary spells.

Focusing on the situation, Sycorax tore another page from the miniature book instead. “ _Nau_ _d_ _iz, Isaz_ – 「Ni」.”

It was as if Fluder's entire body got caught in a vice; an invisible vice that left the Empire's Grand Wizard falling to the ground and landing on his face with a wet  _crack_.

Sycorax relaxed, walking the ring of flash-cards around her knuckles with a sleight of hand.

 _Don't tell anyone,_   words of caution, spoken by a guild-mate in the distant past, came back to her.  _Scientia postestas est._ _You need every element of surprise you can get._  

The mini-grimoire in her hands was technically a binder, composed of incomplete magic scrolls made with「Shorthand」– a high-tier Magic Scribe ability that allowed users to quickly input mana into a medium, usually paper, for later use. The main purpose of 「Shorthand」was to draft a grimoire; it acted like mana store, only needing a fuse and a direction to unleash the magical power stored within the pages. Sycorax had quickly hit upon using the automatic dictation ability「Automatic Secretary」to dictate runes on the incomplete scrolls, which would immediately set off the spell with zero expenditure on her part. This off-cuff weapon, assembled with scraps of paper and usable with multiple arcane alphabets within YGGDRASIL's Galdr programming language, thus rounded out Sycorax's close-combat and ranged-combat ability. Throughout the entire heist and subsequent exchange of spells, the only expenditure on her part had been the stored mana within the miniature pseudo-scrolls made with「Shorthand」.

“Better?” Sycorax turned to Arche.

“Yes, thank you, it's much better.” Arche continued to stare at her, frightened eyes flickering from the incapacitated two-centuries-old man, towards her. “I saw... you. Your power.”

“If that is the 8th tier, no, the 9th tier… No!…......!” Fluder struggled in his binds. The overwhelming energy... what were the heights of magic that this woman could aspire to? Far beyond his own 6th tier magic, which now seemed paltry. “That book contains magic far beyond anything human!”

“Erm... I hate to break it to you...” Sycorax fanned out the cards and turned them towards Fluder's direction. Each and every card, numbering in the tens, simply bore the Alu combination of Ansuz, Laguz, and Uruz runes in six different colours – red, blue, brown, green, black, and glittering gold.

“... runes for storing power...” Fluder gaped at the stack in her hands. He squinted, though the flashes of two runes starting magic circles of binding gave him some pause from casting「Dark Vision」. “...anyone could use it. Anyone could use stored mana, anyone could use a scroll containing magic up to the 10th tier...”

The 10th tier. Although it did exist in legends, there had never been anyone who could provide absolute proof of its existence. Even stored power could only be stretched so far – such a containment spell, though marvellous, would only be considered 7 th -tier.

Who could have seen this coming?

Fluder answered the question in his mind with his soul:

Nobody. His hope was already dying. Even if the Nagini thief before him had learnt her arts from a master, she was only getting by with paltry tricks and magic items. She had not even cast a spell before him – there was no way he could believe that this... this _thief..._ the hope was crashing, crashing...

“Why are you crying?” Sycorax asked. “Come on, you've lived for over two hundred years, right? Is it that hard to capture a Death Knight?”

“Come _on_!” Arche hissed, tugging on Sycorax's arm to pull her, dragging her along as she ran. “「Flight」.”

Nothing happened.

“Sorry, the zone stagnates the flow of power...” Sycorax helpfully added.

“Why did you even remove your own weapon?!” Arche hissed in frustration.

“I said  _flow of power_ , didn't I?”

It made sense, Arche grudgingly conceded, but something occurred to her. The「Dark Vision」, the Snake Servant, the... the ring's removal...

The clatter of armour sounded across the night, along with the hum of magical spells.

“Oh, he broke out,” Sycorax helpfully added as a wave of magical power washed over them from behind, power that was clearly a 6th-tier spell of sorts. She was smiling, as if the veritable army of Magic Casters and Knights equipped with magical armour and weapons were nothing to be terrified of. “Guess he stopped crying. Good for him.”

“Do you even understand our situation  _right now_?!” Arche exclaimed, ducking from a large fireball that erupted behind her.

“Behind us is a country-class Magic Caster, and before us are plenty of knights and Magic Casters prone to killing first and asking later. Did I get that right?” Sycorax's left hand was holding her hat down upon her head, her right hand being dragged by Arche.

Her cavalier reaction put off Arche, who gaped even as the army of veterans came into view. “Then why aren't you panicking? If we get caught, we're going to die, you know?”

Sycorax's eye glowed. “A pirate's life is a merry one, and a short one. I expect it.”

_She froze, watching the sharp blade approach her slowly, the man's speed possibly meaning that he was going to kill her..._

It would not have killed her; despite her current semblance, Sycorax was still a Gorgon, and moreover one of the immortal Nagaraj as well, carrying the serpentine power of self-regeneration. The pause had been because her finely tuned sense of caution, had been battling with the thought of engaging in a bout with the officer which would assuredly kill him. Caution had been ingrained into her from playing YGGDRASIL, but she could never really shake off the fits of whimsy that had defined her reputation.

The whimsy that had lost her her first ship, against a World-class Enemy...

 _Bourreau du Cœur._ Breaker of Hearts.

_Never again will I lose a ship under my command._

“Come, then!” Sycorax snarled her challenge, unleashing an ability known to so few, because of the sole job class associated with it: the Pirate Royal. “I will become the Pirate King.「Conqueror's Colours」!”

The very air seemed to ripple around her; the storm that flowed with her as the eye at its cradle. Almost like a physical force itself, the impression of the dread pirate washed over them, dyeing her in their minds with the dark blue of midnight, the depths of the ocean deep, starkly against the white-grey of her hair whipping behind under her hat in the wake of the eventide tempest.

Clanks of armour started to rain against the dry grounds. Staves and bodies thudded from the battlements and watch-towers as weak-minded petty magicians fell, like a human wave rippling across the compound of the Magic Ministry.

No, it was not any emotion-based or mind-based spell. It was the primitively ambitious verity, the _soul_ of pirate captains who gained the power to rival kings and upset countries, who inspired such dread that not even Davy Jones could keep them locked up in his Locker. The black flag, about to be stained blood-red, in the midst of the blue seas... those were fitting war-colours for the conquerors of the stormy seas to fly under.

An iron staff followed most of the bodies and weapons. Arche shuddered, staring as the veritable army had just fallen before this unknown woman, this madwoman, this....

“Soft landlubbing minds, the lot of you.” Their roles had changed; Sycorax was now dragging Arche, stooping to pick up Arche's staff and shove the weapon into her shaking hands. “Don't lose your grip now, that's your main weapon.”

A thud sounded behind them, causing them to look back on reflex, now that the threat ahead had been essentially destroyed. Fluder Paradyne had fallen to his knees, the blood from his broken nose dripping freely to mingle with the tears that streamed down his face. All of his attention was on Sycorax; it would be a wonder if he could even tell that his former student had been involved in the heist.

“My faith lies in the god that rules and presides over magic,” the man cried. “If you are not that exalted being, then I shall immediately recant my faith, for the one true god has finally appeared before me.”

Arche blinked at him, the old man who had taught her; the Grand Sorcerer of the Baharuth Empire, the wizard who had learnt 6th-tier magic and stepped into the realm of legend...

… was bowing his head.

In his haste to prostrate himself, Fluder struck his head on the ground again, compounding his unfortunately broken nose with a throbbing forehead matted with dirt. Yet, as his head rose, there was a wide smile upon his face, like his physical pain was nothing, compared to his joy.

“Please accept my humblest apologies, my goddess!” Fluder continued. “Please enlighten me with your knowledge!”

“You're a strange one, aren't you?” Sycorax commented. Her tone held mild amusement, like she had pressing business but there was a dog with its business in front of her. “What will you give in exchange for that?”

Fluder did not hesitate for a moment. “Everything! Yes, I will offer everything to your royal being!”

Sycorax started to walk away.

Slowly, Fluder's face fell slack. The roller-coaster of his hopes to find the legendary 10th\- tier of magic was approaching a descent after hitting the crest of realisation! “Wait! Where are you going?!”

“Away from here.” Sycorax continued walking quietly, dragging Arche along. “We could fly, but it seems churlish, you know? Since you can't fly while injured.”

“I want to peer into the abyss of magic! Please!” Fluder watched in horror as Sycorax continued to walk up the paved path littered with unconscious guards, towards the main gates of the Magic Ministry. “Please!”

The gates swung open in a stiff breeze that carried with it the stench of charred property. Sycorax continued to walk through the main gate, never looking back though the old sorcerer scrambled to his feet, staring at the ghostly silhouette of her back.

“What did I do wrong, great one?” Fluder lamented. “Why would you walk away...? I would sacrifice everything, I would willingly be your slave! For over two hundred years, I have waited for you, whose magical talent reaches to the realm of gods, to appear! Why would you walk away now?!”

The jealousy that had frozen his heart for so long warred with frustrated hope, transmuting into anger. At long last, his wish from over two hundred years ago might finally come true. Yet, now that wish was already walking away from him. Fluder's gnarled hands, shaking with fear, tore large tufts of white hair from his temples as he stared at the doubled gates set in the curtain wall. There was the white-haired goddess, her silhouette clearly seen in the night now that he had the「Dark Vision」spell running.

It really doesn't take that long to walk through the gate to freedom, Fluder's brain pointed out. And, they could fly. She had even told him that...

_We could fly, but it seems churlish, you know? Since you can't fly while injured._

They had no injuries – on the contrary, Fluder was the injured party here. So why were they simply... walking out? Strolling out, even. Why would a thief stick around the place that she had allegedly robbed just hours before?

No, Fluder discarded the thought. Why would the goddess of magic feel the need to walk when she could fly?

“...Oh!”

A horrible possibility came to him as the doubled gates began to creak.

“ _Ooooohhh_!”

The charmed gates rang as they slammed shut, a ponderous echo to Fluder Paradyne's semi-horrified scream behind the door.

On the other side of the door, Sycorax and Arche walked side by side, somehow having bonded over having survived dangerous situations together. “It's sad,” said Sycorax, “that the old man just couldn't come along.”

In answer, Arche just put her head into her hands. “I can't believe we did all that. I can't believe we did all that and _survived_. What was up with Master Paradyne? Oh, gods, the knights over there, they're urban guards.”

“I didn't do anything... to his mind,” Sycorax clarified, walking the card-ring over her knuckles by sleight of hand as they walked. “I forgot to include him in range of the Conqueror's Colours... hold on. _Ansuz, Gebo_ – 「Ag」.”

The paper burnt into ash, and the ash burnt thoroughly into nothing, casting a visual and auditory version of 「Greater Invisibility」over them.

“What if he saw our faces?” Arche began to flounder as the panic started to leave in the face of the relatively calm night.

“And who can he tell?” Sycorax shot back. “There is only so far that the average person can suspend disbelief for. I made sure not to leave traceable evidence, nobody was surveying us, and it would be very embarrassing for the Magic Ministry to admit that they got burgled so easily.”

“That was crazy!” Arche insisted, before bursting into giggles all the way back to the Singing Apple. “Crazy... I can't believe we survived!”

* * *

~'✵'~

〇月 ✕日

_Suzuki-san,_

_The heist went on great! Though the Workers I hired say that, next time, they will be taking three days before they start on a heist with me, and they're accusing me of inflicting mental trauma on their youngest member. I wonder what's up with them?_

_Also, the Baharuth Empire's Grand Sorcerer, Fluder Paradyne, is a crazy old goat. He kept trying to ask me for power even though 1. I have no obligation to give it to him, and 2. he wasn't even willing to follow me by walking, flying or otherwise moving out. I've never met such a whiny guy. If he's not willing to travel for knowledge, then why is he complaining about the abyss of magic or other crap he's talking about? Don't approach him, Suzuki-san; something is wrong with the man._

_Anyway, I've sent the books back to my fleet to be data-mined by my fleet. They should be sending you a copy of whatever they manage to decode, but the output might be beyond raven-messenger, so we'll have to open a_ _「_ _Gate_ _」_ _. Location of said_ _「_ _Gate_ _」_ _will probably also be part of the negotiations, if I know you :(._

_Now that my main task in Arwintar is complete, I'll be heading south to meet up with you to talk about our next step. A river route would take me through another major city, Terraferma, and two forts before I actually make it to E-Rantel. Nereus – Titania's son, the First Division Commander – and I are still trying to work out which way is faster, so tell me if you want to meet in E-Rantel, or in Nazarick proper._

_Oh, and, before I forget, Nereus told me that smugglers belonging to this criminal syndicate called the Eight Fingers tried to set fire to my riverboat. They didn't succeed, but now the Eight Fingers are on my blacklist because THEY THREATENED MY BOAT._

_The Eight Fingers organisation apparently operates in Re-Estize. If you have any agents with the Eight Fingers anywhere, please pull them out the moment you receive this letter._

_I'm setting out in six hours. Hope to see you soon! I'll keep you updated about any new developments._

_Best,_

_Kaiō Michiru_

~'✵'~

Momonga set down the letter, his emotion-suppressing aura still rippling with the after-effects of reading between the lines. The belly-aching laughter that threatened him was quickly tampered down to mild amusement that Sycorax's idea had _succeeded,_ with the expected spectacular result.

“Albedo.”

“Ainz-sama? I am at your complete disposal~♡”

“...has Sebas and Solution reported any progress in E-Pespel?” he quickly cut to the chase.

“No, my apologies, but your humble servants have yet to establish membership of the criminal filth. Hopefully they have arrived in Re-Estize after those lower life-forms have lifted the blockade.”

“Albedo, the blockade was partially our fault as well.”

Shalltear blowing her cover had needed him to venture out as his Adventurer persona with teams of Mythril-class Adventurers. All of them were slain where they stood, sucked dry to become Shalltear's Lesser Vampire slaves before a long choreographed fight was started. Still, the resulting damage caused allegedly by the high-level sealing crystal stolen from the hapless Sunlight Scripture had not only damaged the region; it had also blown up the bodies of the other Adventurers, leaving Momonga's team Darkness as the alleged sole survivors.

Shalltear was still trying to get drunk for the 'perceived insult against our great Ainz-sama'. It was oxymoronic, but Momonga was already planning disciplinary measures to ameliorate Shalltear's guilt.

“Anyway, could you please tell them that any investigation will be placed on hold,” Momonga held up the letter. “The Eight Fingers have had the great misfortune to cross Sycorax-san. They will not survive the year, and anything between her and the destruction of Eight Fingers is going to be collateral damage.”

Momonga had been present as part of an alliance between guilds for the sinking of the  _Bourreau du Cœur_  . He had seen the ship sink after tanking possibly the most ultimate attack. He had seen Sycorax's expression, and the fact that now, the World-class Enemy had a real enemy.

When the Buddhas had been slain, two World Items dropped. One of them were 「Five Elements Overcoming」, one of the Twenty Balance-Breakers. No one argued against Sycorax taking them – not after the solo-leading of the charge that total-party-killed the World-class Enemy.

“If Eight Fingers has reached into the Baharuth Empire, does that not imply the existence of an intelligence network?” Albedo frowned. “Why are we giving strangers the advantage, Ainz-sama? I strongly believe that this potential weapon, composed of lower life-forms it may be, is unwise.”

“It's not a potential weapon, Albedo. It is a time bomb.” Ainz took pen and paper, preparing to draft a reply as Bran, the usual raven messenger, perched on the back of his office chair. “I will pledge the assistance of Ainz Ooal Gown to root out the ones responsible, and persuade Sycorax-san to allow me to establish a hostile takeover of the organisation rather than allow the total carnage that will ensue.”

Albedo fumed, but was left with no choice but compliance. “It is as you wish... Ainz-sama.”

* * *

 

 

 

1 _**Pirates during the Golden Age of Piracy elevated the rank of quartermaster to much higher powers and responsibilities than it had. The quartermaster was often granted a veto power by the Articles, in order to create an officer who could counterbalance the captain. Pirate quartermasters, like captains, were usually elected by their crews. The quartermaster ranked higher than any officer aboard the ship except the captain himself, and could veto the captain's decisions whenever the ship was not chasing a prize or engaged in battle.**_

 

_**Although a minority of pirate scholars dismiss the accepted version of the pirate quartermaster's importance, it is well supported by the extant secondary sources such as Charles Johnson, David Cordingly and Botting, and overwhelmingly borne out by the primary sources, including Ringrose, Dampier, Snelgrave, Trott, and George Roberts.** _


	18. XVII: By the Lee

 

The Highest-class cauldron, Eldhrímnir, was a staple of a Chef's trade, but was also useful to anyone who needed a portable stove, amongst other things. Sycorax she set up the collapsible pot on its iron ring-stand, a blue flame immediately kindling about an inch off the table-top. She poured in water from an Unlimited Kettle to halfway up the pot, before putting the magic item back into her inventory.

Nagato and Nereus watched her, all three of them waiting within the confines of the shared room Sycorax and Nereus held at the Dancing Pear inn. Neither officer had taken a seat.

“Now then,” Sycorax briskly started once she was sure that her miniature camp-stove was not about to turn the inn into a pile of kindling, “Status report.”

“We're data-mining right now,” Nagato replied. “Given the processing speed of the Weird Sisters, I should be able to give a preliminary report to the Council of Ten, latest by the end of the week.”

The Council of Ten was a reference to the seven division commanders, the Quartermaster, Fleet's purser Drake, and the Chief Medical Officer Prospero. Since they were the direct commanding officers of the Fleet at present, it fell to them to advise the Fleet Admiral on what to do; this arrangement being a throwback of the much-vaunted pirate democracy within Rán's Net.

“So fast?” Nereus butted in.

“They have pulled the Fleet's literate Undead officers to assist them.” Nagato explained, shooting a look at him.

“Ah, I see. Carry on.” Sycorax interrupted.

“Furthermore, Ariel has begun official correspondence with the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick.” Nagato neutrally reported. “The official correspondent on their end is someone named Yuri Alpha.”

“Oh, her.” Sycorax made a motion with her hand, but paused. “How curious.”

“Yes, Admiral?”

“Nothing. Next item.”

“And, with regards to the situation about Caliban, leaving one of our commanding officers stranded does not seem to be the done thing. Hence, I have dispatched one of the First Division's top Assassins to shadow him.”

“You sent one of _my_ staff?” Nereus jerked towards her. “Who?”

“Corazón.”

Nereus squinted at her. “ _Corazón_? What about the rest of  Los Deditos?”

“His skill-set complements Caliban, and he can keep up with Caliban's speed,” Nagato explained. “Would he not be the perfect choice? Although, Admiral, it seems like Nereus would require Corazón's assistance to safeguard you on land. I would recommend Proteus, but the Lieutenant Commander cannot be torn away at this juncture.”

“Clearly not, if you intend to send the handler of the Fleet's top agents away.”

“No matter, I got carried away, it's my fault,” Sycorax waved as the pot started to bubble, pulling three sturdy mugs from her inventory along with a box of Midgard Flowery tea. She put a spoon of the leaves into the pot. “Don't blame him, Nereus needed to watch the boat.”

“Yes, don't blame me,” Nereus complained, relieved for the excuse. “It's not my fault that someone tried to set the  _Greenheart_  on fire.”

Sycorax's eye flashed. The water boiled over, spilling a touch out as the flame underneath it flared out of control. “What.”

“Nereus can tell you all about it,” Nagato smoothly interjected. “He was the one who stopped them, after all.”

“Dammit, Nagato...!” Nereus hissed as the white shadow loomed over the pot. “Well, it goes like this...”

“I see,” Sycorax crossed her arms as the tea bubbled and boiled within Eldhrímnir. “Our sale of goods have aroused the intentions of the local criminal organisation, who seek to stop us since we do not follow the local chapter of the smugglers, so it seems.”

“That's about the long and short of it,” Nagato agreed. “As expected of the Admiral. We've sent Corazón to watch over Caliban, just in case. What should we do?”

Knuckles cracked and popped. “I'll write a letter to Momonga. Those guys who threatened my boat... I'll beat them up.”

“Forgive me for saying, Admiral, but they are on the other side of the mountains.” Nagato started. “Furthermore, our preliminary interrogation reveals that the leadership of this organisation, the Eight Fingers, is based in Re-Estize. Since Caliban is already there and Corazón is set to join him, I would recommend unleashing Caliban upon them.”

“But that's so boring,” Sycorax lamented.

“Yes, Admiral, but this is the course of action with the least effort.” Nagato continued her attempts to stop an impending massacre. “We can even stage a hostile takeover, depending on Caliban's results. And when we leave, there will be a functioning spy network for Momonga-sama to use.”

Sycorax pouted, but gave in with a sigh. “Fine. I will restrain myself from launching a hurricane in that direction. Now, what else is there to report on?”

“Ah, the Merman Navy is increasing the number of skirmishes along Pantaleone,” Nagato replied. “They have yet to penetrate Ariel's 「Passing in the Night」, but that is cold comfort. I fear that if we continue to allow shore leave in Corne's Village, we will invite tails back to our lagoon.”

“Got it.” Sycorax frowned. “Get the Weird Sisters to conduct their scrying on the Merman Navy and its bases in the Agrand. With a bunch of anti-tracing protections too, do not forget.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“And what of our island? Are there any... settlers?”

Nagato grimly nodded. “To answer, we have uncovered traces of a clan of reclusive Cetaceans on the other side of the island.”

“Cetaceans? What are they?”

“They seem to be a sub-race of Merfolk with cetacean attributes and unique black-and-white colourations.” Nagato relayed. “Phaeton's spies have noted that they seem to be resisting the Agrand incursion as well.”

“Hmm... is that so...” Sycorax hummed. “Keep spying. We'll most likely have to decide to either make an agreement with them, or... attack them. As you might note, either possibility has pros and cons.”

“As you say, Admiral.”

“And, now...” Sycorax decanted a smooth brew into the three cups on the table. “It's teatime~ Let's drink to Caliban's health.”

* * *

The abacus used a counting board, and pebbles. That was its most simple form. Usually, merchants would carry around the small boards, and set them on a counter with pebbles. The newest variation, of several beads set in a frame, made counting even more efficient.

“I'm so glad for Momonga-san's abacus,” Pluton Ainzach commented as the click-click-click of beads quickly computed the costs of twelve goblin ears, twenty ogre ears, and the previous payout from the Vampire mission. “Momonga-san, how did you learn to use such a thing?”

The dark-armoured warrior before him inclined his head. Underneath the helmet, Pluton had no idea that Momonga, also known as Ainz Ooal Gown, was thanking Sycorax for mailing the various functions of a Japanese  _soroban_ to him along with the blueprints. “It came from my homeland.”

Those words were technically true, even as they caused Nabe to do a double-take at him. Ainz himself had never had cause to use one, since a salary-man would at least have access to a pocket calculator.

“M- Momonga-san,” Nabe spoke once they exited the E-Rantel Adventurer's Guild building. “I- I had no idea that the Supreme Beings used such items to calculate. Why did you give that flea such a valuable item?”

“Because he would introduce it to other people who need them, and we do not need them.” Momonga rolled his eyes. “The value of that item lies in knowing the correct steps needed to calculate two values. In short, what I have done is obligate him to me, with minimal cost to myself, and earned more connections with the merchants of E-Rantel.”

“Ah. As expected of A- Momonga-san!”

Before Ainz Ooal Gown was formed, back when it was the nine of them, plus more, Momonga had heard Touch Me commiserate with the Guildmasters of Trinity, World Searcher and 2ch Union. One time, the topic was dealing with Sycorax in PVP.

“If you have any strategy involved that relies on complex plans, discard them,” Touch Me had stated. “That woman's luck would make it rebound on you.”

It took more than luck to make the Guildmaster of YGGDRASIL's fourth-ranked guild, but Momonga had not felt it his place to say anything.

“Hmm... I wonder, how are Sebas and Solution? I hope Caliban is fine with them...”

* * *

Darkened clouds covered the sky, currently casting a fog of rain down upon the ancient city of Re-Estize, capital of the Re-Estize Kingdom. Seeing the world of grey spread out before his eyes, Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff clicked his tongue.

“It really did rain,” he told his companion.

The other man had messy, jet-black hair that swept down, complimenting browned skin and intense blue eyes. His ears were slightly pointed, and his canines prominent, but nothing else indicated any difference from most of humanity. Unlike Gazef, who wore a full coat, this man wore a heavy-looking peacoat and black pants that ended in slip-on shoes, also made of cloth. The coat was slightly wrinkled, the better for access to three katanas of eye-popping worth on his belt. Gold piercings hung from his ears, but few people would dare to accuse him of being unmanly.

Although he scanned the skies for a clearing, the thick clouds completely enveloped Re-Estize and showed no sign of abating. “I told you. Mariners know their weather.”

“I believe you, Sir Caliban. And how do mariners handle such weather?”

“We brave it. Rigging would not save itself from a storm otherwise.” So saying, Caliban reached behind him and pulled up-

With no lack of envy, Gazef watched the wood lattice raise a small shield of oiled cloth up, allowing Caliban to carry a portable rain shelter with him as the quiet man stepped out. “One day, I think I'll get used to you, and then you do  _this_.”

Having abandoned the notion of waiting it out inside, Gazef donned the hood attached to his coat and stepped out into the downpour, making sure to edge into Caliban's space and shudder once he was out of the rain, for however small the space was.

“Where did you get that?”

“Admiral.”

“Ah.” Gazef and his temporary companion passed through the palace gate’s guards with only a flash of his face, and then headed towards the city centre. Normally, the place would be overflowing with life, but the usual bustle of activity was nowhere to be found. A scant number of people moving about, careful not to slip on the wet surface. A number of them turned with similarly envious looks towards the wooden contraption Caliban was holding over their heads.

Although his jacket was able to serve as a raincoat, the wet sensation of it clinging to his back made it uncomfortable, even though it was out of the rain. “How... does she think of these things?!”

More silence.

“I'm asking you,” Gazef quickly clarified when it was clear that Caliban was waiting.

“She is the Admiral, most admired of the admired.”

“Admired for what?”

“Conquering the seas.”

“Can't imagine what kind of enemies one would face on the seas.”

Caliban's face turned contemplative. “Waterspouts. Storms. Food shortages. Sea monsters. No stable footing. Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink – until the next squall washes up a few barrels.”

“That sounds terrible. This way.” Gazef led the way, being careful not to keep Caliban out of his sight. The first few days of Caliban being lost within five metres of walking, had made the Warrior-Captain take drastic measures. Such as dragging him to Rolente Castle each day for practice. The good news was, with such a talented swordsman attending practice, his men were at least shaping up.

As his house grew closer, the fact that he would soon be liberated from his drenched coat brought a sigh of relief to Gazef’s lips. Suddenly, his senses were drawn to the side: His vision shadowed by a thin veil, a narrow road veering off to his right.

There, seemingly uncaring of his soaked body, was a ragged man plopped down on the side of the road. The third man appeared to have dyed his hair, though patches of his natural hair colour could be seen all over his head, dotting the green with splotches of brown. Said hair currently resembled wet seaweed to Caliban; drenched and clinging to its scalp, dripping droplets of water. The man's face was slightly bent downwards and hidden from view.

“Do you know him?” Caliban murmured.

Gazef frowned, not because of the lack of a proper coat, but more of a general feeling of things standing out of place. His eyes darted down and around, especially to the man's right hand.

Like a child grasping onto the hand of his mother, the man held a weapon that did not match with his ragged appearance; called a ‘katana’, it was usually crafted in a city located within a desert in the far-off south. Gazef frowned; compared to Caliban's swords, the other's blade seemed lacklustre.

 _He’s holding a katana… A thief? No. This feeling I’m getting from him is different. Am I feeling glad to see him?_ With his feet planted, Gazef stared earnestly at the man’s profile. At that moment, his memory resurfaced like a surging wave.

“Is that you… Unglaus?” As soon as the words left his mouth, his mind was filled with doubt.

Even to now, the appearance of the man with whom he fought a close match at the Valencia Palace tournament finals was engraved into Gazef's mind. It had been, quite possibly, the strongest opponent he has faced since first picking up the sword and living his life as a warrior – even if it was one-sided on his part, Gazef considered Brain Unglaus to be his rival.

The man’s gaunt profile matched almost exactly with the face from his memories. Time could not completely erase his past self. Yet, the man from Gazef's memories did not have such a pitiful countenance. Brain Unglaus was a man filled to the brim with confidence in his sword, and a fighting spirit that burned violently like fire. He did not have the look of a wet dog, like this man before him.

Gazef walked towards him, boots squishing in the dank water. As if responding to the sound, the man slowly looked up.

Looking at him from the front, Gazef was breathless with certainty. This man was Brain Unglaus, the genius of the sword. However, the light from the past was gone. The Brain that was in front of him was a defeated man with his will completely broken.

Brain staggered to his feet. This dull, languid movement was not that of a warrior; it was difficult to even call it the movement of an old soldier. With eyes downcast, the man turned around without a word, trudging away.

As his back grew smaller in the rain, Gazef was struck by an ominous foreboding that if they parted here, he would never see him again. He closed the distance that grew between them while shouting: “Unglaus! Brain Unglaus!”

If the man denied it, Gazef told himself, he would admonish himself for mistaking that person's identity. However, a tiny voice flowed into his ears.

“…Stronoff.”

It was a lifeless voice, one that could not possibly have belonged to the Brain of his memories whom he crossed swords with.

“What, what happened?” Gazef was dumbfounded. Anyone could have their life ruined and fall on hard times, of course; Gazef had seen countless examples. A man who always chose the easy way out, could lose everything from just one failure. The sword genius, Brain Unglaus, though... it was completely unthinkable. Perhaps, this was simply born from his own sentiment, not wishing to see the strongest opponent of his past reduced to such a disgrace.

The two men met eyes.

With gaunt cheeks, Brain Unglaus had dark bags under his eyes. His eyes were deathly pale and devoid of all energy. The man was like a corpse. No, even a corpse would be better than this... Unglaus is dead on his feet...

“…I'm broken.”

“What?” From his words, the first thing Gazef looked to was the katana that Brain held in his hand. But he soon realized that was wrong. What was broken wasn't the katana, but-

“Hey, are we strong?” came the next question.

Gazef hesitated.

The incident in Carne Village flashed across Gazef's mind. The mysterious magic caster, Ainz Ooal Gown; had he not come to his aid, both him and his soldiers would have perished. Another incident; the petrified Kraken, the healing of a man's severed arm.

The slaughter of a whole pack of Barghest with one slash...

Even as he was titled the strongest in the Kingdom, that was all he amounted to.

To his silence, Brain continued to speak. “Weak. We're weak. After all, we’re only human. We humans are inferior.”

Gazef's lips thinned. Compared to something like the strongest race, dragons, the difference was clear. Humans did not have hard scales, razor-sharp claws, wings that soared through the skies, breath that obliterated everything. That was why warriors held Dragon Slayers in high esteem: with their trained skills, weapons, and allies, there was glory in overcoming great odds and bringing down such a mighty race. It was a merit, allowed only to the warriors who could be described as ‘exceptional.’

Could Brain have fought a Dragon, and lost? He stretched out his hand to a place that was beyond his reach and failed; lost his balance, and plummeted back to the earth.

“...What are you saying? Any warrior would understand that humans are weak. There is a world where only the strong exist. Are we not training, so we can win against such foes?”

That world might be invisible to him, but Gazef was still fully aware of its existence. Warriors trained with hope that one day, they will reach that world.

Brain emphatically shook his head, causing his drenched hair to fling droplets of water to his surroundings. “No! That’s not the level that I’m talking about!” A shout like coughing up blood.

The man before him overlapped with his image from Gazef's memories. Despite his energy directed ostensibly in the complete opposite direction when compared to back then, it was the same spirit as when they crossed swords the first time.

“Stronoff!” said the mirage. “We can never reach the world of the truly powerful, no matter how hard we try. As long as we're born human, this is the truth. In the end, we're just children holding sticks. We're playing with swords now, but we are still mere children pretending to be swordsmen.” A calm expression that lost all traces of emotion stared back at Gazef. “Listen, Stronoff. You should be confident in your sword too, right? But... that's garbage. All you're doing is deluding yourself, if you think that you've been protecting these people with that useless thing in your hand.”

“Feelings are just like that, feelings.” Caliban contemplated. “Please do not blame them for your own shortcomings.”

Gazef ignored the barb, most attention focused on Brain. “Was the peak you saw really that high?”

“I saw it and realized; a height that humans can never reach. Actually–” Brain let out a self-mocking laugh. “What I saw was just a glimpse. I was too weak to see the actual pinnacle, you see. Isn't it funny?”

“Then, if you were to train...”

Brain’s face twisted in anger.

“You don't know _anything_! You can't ever reach that monster's level, not with a human body. It’s obviously no good! Just what was I aiming for all this time?!”

Gazef could say nothing. He had seen a person whose heart was this wounded. A person whose heart was shattered from seeing his comrades die in front of him. There was no way to save such a person. He cannot be saved by others. Without the will to stand with their own strength, any attempts to help him would only be futile.

“Unglaus,” he tried again.

“Stronoff. Strength achieved from the sword really is garbage. It’s useless in front of true power.” As expected, those words showed no signs of his past splendour.

“I’m glad... to have met you in the end.”

As Brain turned his back and walked away, Gazef stared at him with pained eyes. The pitiful figure of his once greatest rival with his heart in tatters. Gazef could no longer find the energy to speak to him.

However, he did not miss the short phrase that he heard as they parted. “Now... I can die.”

“Stop! Wait, Brain Unglaus!” Gazef shouted feverishly to Brain’s back. He ran up to him and grabbed his shoulder, turning the latter around.

His staggering appearance no longer had the light from the past. However, despite the fact that Gazef pulled him with all of his strength, Brain’s posture did not falter nor collapse. It was proof that he possessed both a well-trained lower body and an outstanding sense of balance.

Gazef felt a touch of relief. His skill had not rusted. It was not too late. He could not, in good conscience, leave him to his death.

“What are you doing...?”

“Come with me, to my home.”

“Forget it. Don’t try to stop me. I’m done with being scared. I don't want to be constantly looking over my shoulder, frightened by shadows. I don't want to face reality anymore. To think I used to be content with this trash in my hand...”

Hearing Brain's plea, Gazef's eyes narrowed. “Shut up and follow me.”

With that, Gazef began to walk while holding onto Brain’s arm.

Seeing how Brain followed with faltering steps, without putting up resistance, Gazef felt an inarticulate displeasure. “After you change your clothes and eat something, immediately get some rest. Oh, right, this is Sir Caliban, my house-guest. Sir Caliban, would you mind terribly if he took the room next to yours?”

“It is your room, Warrior-Captain Stronoff.” Caliban inclined his head. The umbrella, though, hovered to cover Gazef and Brain without a word. “It is this way-”

“That way! Let's go.”

Gazef dragged Caliban and his load away, never noticing the soundless footstep on a sloped roof above. No one heard the rustle of a black-feathered cloak, or the soft rasp of toughened waterproof wool in the rain, or the snap of a match-book-

Caliban glanced up on instinct, and immediately rolled his eyes as one of the lower officers of the Fomori Fleet, and apparently his new shadow, managed to set himself on fire in a _rainstorm_.

* * *

Located in the deepest area of the capital of the Re-Estize Kingdom was Rolente Castle. Its walls surrounded a vast stretch of land measuring 1,400 meters, with a protective ring of twelve enormous cylindrical guard towers. The room of our attention was located inside one of these twelve towers. With all of its lights turned off, a blond young man with sun-kissed skin slept into the next day of Brain's arrival into Gazef's life.

His name was Climb, with no surname. He was a soldier who invited the jealousy of many, being the bodyguard of the Kingdom's Golden Princess.

The moment he regained consciousness from the world of darkness, his mind was sharp, and his bodily functions almost completely recovered. Sleeping well and waking up promptly, were some of the things that Climb took pride in.

Climb pushed aside the thick blanket covering his body and stood. Even in the summer, the stone walls surrounding him meant that the nights were still cold. He rubbed his sanpaku eyes, and found that his fingers came away wet.

“...That dream again.” Climb used his sleeves to wipe the tears from his face. The tears were not from sorrow; these were tears of joy, thanking the miracle that was created from a fated meeting in a rainstorm similar to what swept the capital these past days.

Climb stood, his face showing a strong determination and a youthful energy befitting of his age. His voice, rough from excessive training, recited a word:

“Light.”

The lamp hanging from the ceiling responded to the keyword, and illuminated the inside of the room with white light. The floor and walls illuminated by the light were made of stone. A thin carpet was laid out in a futile attempt to cover the cold, hard surface. The furnishings in the room also included a shoddy wooden bed, a slightly larger armoire to accommodate weapons and armour, a desk with drawers, and a thin cushion resting on a wooden chair. In a corner of the room rested a set of white full-plate armour, glossy and shining in the wan sunlight.

Even though they were used widely, the reason he was given such an expensive item with Continual Light was not because of his special position, but for the safety of the castle's inhabitants against poor air-flows and the hazards posed by fire.

An outsider looking in, would think of it as unimpressive; to others of Climb's rank, it was incredible. Enlisted soldiers did not usually get private quarters; they were placed into a large room with bunk beds. The only furniture the soldiers were given, aside from the bunk, was a wooden chest with a lock for storing their personal belongings. Also, no foot soldier would ever be granted such impressive equipment as white armour. This special treatment was not something that Climb had earned with his own strength, but rather a sign of favor from the master whom he swore his life to. As such, it would be impossible not to invite jealousy from others.

He opened the closet and changed while staring at the mirror attached inside. Having changed into his small-clothes that smelled of metal, he then donned the chain shirt over the rest of his attire. Normally this would be where he put on his plate armour, but instead, he opted for a vest with numerous pockets, and finished with a pair of trousers. In his hand was a wooden stick wrapped in a towel.

He looked himself over in the mirror, checking for anything that was amiss, making sure that his gear was tidy. Any fault in Climb could potentially become a weapon to hurt his master: Her Royal Highness, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself. Third Princess of the Kingdom of Re-Estize.

Climb would describe her if asked as: kind as a goddess; in possession of a benevolent and radiant mind befitting her royal blood, and wisdom that devised many types of policies. In the truest sense of the word, to him she was a noble amongst nobles. Possessing the brilliance of gold, nothing can be allowed to blemish such a flawless gem. If one were to compare her to a ring, Renner would be akin to huge, brilliantly cut diamond.

Climb could not stop his chest from growing warm at the thought of his master. Even a devout believer of his faith would be hard-pressed to outshine Climb as he was now.

After staring at himself in the mirror for some time, Climb, having determined with conviction that he would not be a hindrance to his master, nodded his head in satisfaction and stepped out of the room.

The place he headed to was a large hall. An entire floor of the tower had been emptied to serve as a training area. Normally the place would be radiating the heat of soldiers going about their training. However, it was deserted this early in the day.

The empty space was quiet; one could almost hear the silence. The sound of Climb’s footsteps rang out loudly, echoing against the stone that spread in every direction.

The hall was brightly lit from the semi-permanent light of a magic fire. Armour stood mounted on stakes with hay dolls to act as archery targets. The walls were lined with racks, filled with various arms that were left unsharpened.

Ordinarily, a training area should be set up outdoors. However, having the soldiers train outside of Valencia Palace in the same vicinity would invite the chance of being sighted by foreign ambassadors. To avoid appearing crass, numerous areas within the castle tower served as training areas in their stead. The current fashion in the Kingdom was to be perceived as elegant, splendid, and high-born; therefore, no outdoor drills. With that said, there still were drills that were impossible to conduct indoors. Those practices would thus either be done discretely in a corner, or on a field outside the castle – outside the _capital_.

Climb entered the quiet hall as if he was cutting through the cool air and slowly started to stretch in the corner. Thirty minutes later, after thorough stretching session, Climb's face was reddened, his forehead was drenched with sweat and his laboured breaths were heavy with heat as he approached the weapon rack. Checking the grip of his choice, he made sure that it fit securely in his hands.

His palms were already rough and hard from the numerous blisters that bore fruit in his training.

He filled his pockets with chunks of metal and buttoned them tightly, so as to prevent them from falling out. The metal that filled his clothes made it as heavy as full-plate armour. Regular plate armour without any magical enchants provided an excellent defence at the cost of one’s freedom of movement, thus training with it equipped was the right course of action. Even so, it was rare to bring out the full-plate for mere training, never mind his expensive bestowal; thus the metal chunks as an alternative.

Climb gripped an iron weapon that exceeded the size of a great-sword, and held it high over his head. He slowly brought down the sword, exhaling as he did so. Stopping just before it struck the floor, he breathed in and raised the sword to its original position over his head. He stared at the space in front of him with sharp eyes, completely absorbed in his training as he gradually raised the speed of his swings.

He had finished 300 swings when the first man came. No, the first _men_ ; a lot of Gazef Stronoff's personal host was assembled there this morning, all kitted out in full-plate armour.

Though sweat poured down Climb's completely reddened face, curiosity tugged at his mind. Despite the challenge of handling the weight of the large great-sword,he was curious.

Sighing, he set it down. Swinging such a heavy weight while distracted was just asking for a training accident to happen. Hence, since this was all taking place in public space, Climb settled down to watch the host before their leader.

Calling him burly would have been an understatement; the man was built like the embodiment of steel. The wrinkles in the face, reminiscent of rock, made him look older than he actually was. His bulging muscles made it evident that this was no ordinary man. There was no soldier in the Kingdom who did not know of him: Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff, lauded as the strongest in the Kingdom and unmatched, even within the surrounding nations.

Climb blinked. Beside Gazef, there stood a slender raven-haired boy in cloth armour; shirt, trousers, and trousers of heavy twill. Gold earrings hung from his ears. What was most amazing were the three Katana hanging from the boy's belt. Those specially made swords with extreme cutting power commanded an eye-popping cost per blade, and yet this boy had three of them.

All the men looked impressed as well.

“Captain Stronoff!” Climb exclaimed as the Warrior-Captain approached him.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt, Climb,” Gazef replied. “Good morning. How many swings was it?”

“Three hundred. Sir,” Climb hurriedly tacked on at the end. “G- Good mornign as well, sir.”

“Good, good,” Gazef frowned at the young boy, who was receiving a parade salute from the warrior in Gazef's retinue.

“I- I would not wish to interrupt your drills, sir,” Climb started.

“No, no, please stay,” Gazef corrected. “I am as much a student as every other warrior before Sir Caliban.”

“ _Sir_ Caliban?” Climb exclaimed at the overly respectful appellation.

“Only recently, something occurred that made me realize that I was lacking,” Gazef sighed. “I would like someone competent to reflect with me as well.”

“Captain Stronoff, inadequate?” Just what sort of incident could make _him_ feel inadequate? Climb suddenly remembered, that the number of troops in Gazef's unit had decreased. He had heard the rumour circulating around the mess hall: they had lost a number of their troops after being embroiled in an incident, according to insider sources.

“So... your captain has asked me to talk about warfare on the seas,” Caliban haltingly began, “specifically on boarding actions, which we define as 'when you swing over to the other ship and kill everyone onboard'.”

A murmur of laughter greeted his words. Climb shook his head, reaching for his practice sword only to be held back by Gazef's hand on his shoulder.

“You may listen as well,” Gazef told him. “Sir Caliban is the strongest swordsman I have ever met in my entire lifetime. There is no meaning in pushing yourself so far without knowledge.”

High praise awarded with his recommendations, Climb settled on his rough bench, away from the host of highly trained men.

“The most important difference between combat at sea and combat on land is your stability. Compared to land, a ship is always rocking, and stable footing, a thing as rare as clean water. So, the key principles are light armour, short weapons, and close-combat actions.”

Despite the possibility of facing combat at sea being slim, Climb duly paid attention. Given their lecturer's credentials and armaments, he was probably an Adventurer from the far east of the continent, possibly even from Eryuentiu – the city of the Eight Greed Kings.

“In the case of katana,” Caliban started, “the philosophy of swordsmanship is... relatively different in practice.”

“How?” a soldier called.

“The practice space, called a Dojo, is treated with the same sanctity as a temple,” Caliban raised his hands with a puzzled expression. “And, all swords, whether made of wood or metal, are all treated as if they possess a live edge. No metal swords made be used without pre-practice ritual. Actually, there is a lot off ritual involved, partly for safety purposes, but mostly because swords have to be ritually purified and consecrated to the spirit of the Dojo, in a manner of speaking.”

“This Dojo is haunted?” another exclaimed.

“No, it is... like a minor deity,” Caliban frowned at the questioner. “I find communication difficult. Can people truly understand each other with words? I suppose a live display would be much easier...”

“Please! Go ahead!”

“Sir Caliban, I would be glad to have a display with you,” Gazef volunteered, smiling. “It would be easier to explain yourself with a live example, I reckon.”

“Oh, thanks.” Caliban nodded, waiting until Gazef had walked up to the circled space that Gazef's men had defined in their practice room. “Clear a space... a wider space... there. Now, let us begin. It's thankful that you're in heavy armour for this, Captain Stronoff, but, may I ask... can you afford to lose that armour?”

“This?” Gazef pointed to his breastplate. “Ah, I've been thinking about a new breastplate, but it's such a waste. If you somehow damage this, I've a few spares, and I've commissioned a new one.”

A bout of disbelieving laughter echoed. “You can't mean that a practice bout would damage that?” someone heckled.

“First, we move the sword from the sword hand to the weak, and bow,” Caliban ignored the heckler, demonstrating slowly the movement of the white katana across his chest into his other hand, before executing a bow to his opponent, which was returned. “Then I slowly move this back, and insert it in my belt, twisting the sword mid-way to ensure that the blade is facing up behind me, instead of the previous position where the blade edge is facing down. Understood so far?”

The men murmured their assent.

“Since everyone knows the standard stances, I assume, we can probably talk about specialised movements. I'll be showing an example of Iaijutsu, which is a combat technique focusing on quickly drawing your sword for an attack. Ready – begin.”

Caliban moved.

It seemed to them, that there was no change at all; that Caliban had not unsheathed, attacked, and re-sheathed his sword with a back-handed grip, all done in the same heartbeat after placing his sword upright.

The remnants of the breastplate, now so much scrapped steel, clattered to the ground. Stillness hung for a second, before Gazef's mail shirt apparently remembered to fall out, now that the breastplate was not holding it in.

“A true master can adjust the swing of their sword, choosing which part to cut under the many layers of an onion.” Caliban continued lecturing to the gaping faces of the soldiers present, even to Stronoff. The Warrior-Captain stumbled as he stepped back a foot.

“With one swing, that armour...!”

Climb swallowed. “Incredible...”

Nobody could move. All of their eyes were glued to the young man with the straight back, with a bearing that any warrior could long for. He emanated a pressure, like an overpowering thick, invisible wall.

Said young man was contemplating his blades once more. “I believe we are done.”

“Ah... yes! Of course!” a lieutenant spoke up. “Sir Caliban has imparted great wisdom accrued from his travels to us. It would be pointless to make him sit through so much repetitive drills and pointless swinging.”

“If you will not mind, then, today I will repeat the pointless repetition here, since the concept explanation has been concluded, which leaves the actual practice.”

The lieutenant's face flushed. “Why- you-”

“It is alright, Rune.” Gazef took over. “Sir Caliban has a different viewpoint of the world from us. He is passionate about the sword – especially using the sword.”

Caliban murmured, ritually drawing the blade with the white sheath and handle. Holding it before him in two hands, he waited until the drill formation was assembled, and then swung his sword in practise.

After the practise, Caliban was wiping the sweat from his brow and taking a drink from a water-skin when Climb approached him.

“Uh, um...” Climb could not speak in the face of eyes that glowered in silent contemplation. Then, Caliban appeared to make a decision.

“Who are you?”

“…My name is Climb, a soldier of this country. I'm here to give you my sincere thanks for your instruction this morning.”

“Do not mind it. I owed Warrior-Captain Gazef.”

“Owed?”

“I serve aboard a fine ship, the  _Mahogany;_ part of a contingents of entrepreneurs. The commander of our fleet sent me here, and bade Warrior-Captain Stronoff to lead me to this city from Re-Ulovale. My purse did not include victuals and housing, which the Captain provided at his own expense.” Caliban took another drink. “Well, then. You have questions.”

“Please... truthfully... though I’m embarrassed to admit it... Actually, I don't mind, even if you were to laugh at my forward request. But, if it’s okay with you... could you teach me that technique that you used a little while ago? Even a small portion of the incredible movement and technique you showed just a while ago would be fine.”

And there were the sharp eyes again. “Why?”

“I am training to become stronger.”

“Why do you wish to become stronger?”

“E- Eh?” Climb unwittingly made a strange noise.

“I wish to know the reason behind why you seek strength,” Caliban elaborated.

Climb narrowed his eyes then. “I... I'm sorry. I didn't expect such a question. Why else would anyone seek strength in this world?”

“But I am not asking anyone,” Caliban clarified. “I am asking _you_. There is no one else here to laugh at the imperfect charm of your request, or at the nature of its context.”

Climb was taken aback at the candidness of the enquiry, that tore at his mind. Why, exactly, did _he_ want to be stronger?

Climb was an abandoned child, who did not know the faces of his parents. Stories like his were not uncommon in the Kingdom. Dying alone in the mud was not uncommon either. Climb used to be one of those, whose fate was to die alone and unmourned in the rain of history.

However— On that day, Climb met the sun that destroyed his illusion of darkness.

When he was young, he longed for her. And as he grew up, his feelings changed shape without hesitation – love grew in his chest, no matter how hopeless it seemed. The miracles that the wandering minstrels sang of, would never happen in reality. Climb's wish would never be fulfilled; no, it _must_ not be fulfilled. A princess could not be married to someone of an unknown birth like Climb; someone who was lower than a commoner.

To him, this moment in time was like gold; he would be willing to pay any price to be able to stop time.

Climb was a simple, ordinary person with no talent. Even so, at the end of training, he had considerable skill when compared with the other soldiers. If he did not pour all of his time into his training, then he could enjoy that moment for even a tiny bit longer.

Would it not be better to be satisfied and stop his training here, so he can serve Renner by her side just a little while longer?

Was that truly enough?

Climb yearned for the light of the sun. That was not a lie or a misunderstanding. It was a thought born from Climb’s honest truth.

“Because I'm a man.”

“I do not understand what your gender has to do with this.”

Climb smiled. “She is very beautiful. I wish to protect her.”

“Is she a... commoner?” Caliban blinked. “If she is, there is no reason to rise further. You are a very good catch as a young knight.”

“Ah, no, you don't understand... she is my princess. The Princess of this Kingdom. And I am... I am her bodyguard.”

Ambition beat in his heart; he wanted to rise even higher, so that he could become an existence closer to the sun, no matter how marginal. He did not wish to always remain as someone who had to raise his face to see her. He wanted to become a man who would suit the woman he yearned for, even if they could never be together.

This was the insignificant thoughts of a boy. They were well-suited for a boy nonetheless. These thoughts were why he was able to endure the life without comrades, the harsh training, and his studies that cut into his sleep time. If people wanted to call him foolish and mock him, then let them. Those who did not truly love another, could never understand his feelings.

Caliban thought about it. “It seems far more than fealty... lust? No, it is simply pride. You wish to be at her side. And it's not _just_ that, is it?”

Climb looked away from those eyes that seemed to perceive everything.

“Friendship, effort, harmony... They are all splendid things, don't you think so?” Caliban commented.

“Ah... yes.”

“Is she worth it? Or is she the only path you can see, that your frustrated hopes will not let you turn away from this path?”

“Will you train me or not?” Climb snapped before he could recollect himself. “My apologies. She is the sun to me.”

Caliban contemplated those meanings with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to understand the myriad of meanings behind Climb's short answer.

He then nodded his head in satisfaction. “Amongst my people, we do not give anything for free. Exchanges must be conducted of relatively equal value. How much I teach you will be equal to how much you pay me, or how much I owe you. However, those exchanges are set according to what we deem to be of equal value, so... I have business to do in this town. Help me with that, and I promise to teach you a sword-skill.”

He paused. “However, you have no talent. Training you in earnest will take one hundred years. For the results will show quickly... it will be very severe.”

The glint in those eyes made his back shudder. The reason that Climb did not respond immediately, was because he felt the power in those eyes. It was a strength that could not possibly exist – exceeding even that of a serious Gazef.

“You may die.”

This was not a joke.

“I'm staying in Captain Stronoff's quarters for now. Come find me when you have an answer.” And then Caliban left... and promptly took a right turn.

“Where's Sir Caliban?” Gazef accosted Climb as the training wound to a close.

“He went left-”

“Crap! He's lost!”

“Captain, it's a straight hallway, it's only been-” Climb poked his head out, only to be greeted with an empty hallway. “What the...? He's gone.”

“Sir Caliban has an abysmal sense of direction!” Gazef told him. “We need to find him, or else-! Where could he be?”

* * *

A tall man standing at nearly three metres was bent double on a protruding beam of the tower of Ro Lente Castle. He had golden-blonde hair styled close to his eyes, fair skin, and sharp, reddish-brown eyes. Makeup over his eyes and mouth gave him a ghoulish clown look. A dark red hood from which two heart-shapes hung formed a peak at his forehead. It was matched with a pair of beige jeans, a blackened feather mantle over a white shirt with pink hearts printed all over it, and mismatched covered shoes.

A window creaked open, and Caliban's head stuck out.

“Using a rope trap is ridiculous,” Caliban told the man. “You could have just cast「Lead of Yatagarasu」, Corazón.”

“Direction spells don't work on you, Caliban Bey.” replied the third of Los Deditos, the Fleet's top black-ops squad. “Nagato Reis sent me to support you. And, we've got a mission.”

“To kill the Eight Fingers, right?” Caliban stared down, watching for guards. “And to tell me, you had to hang outside here like some overgrown flamingo?”

“No, there's been some amendments to our orders,” Corazón's hands moved, pulling out a cigarette from his cloak. A small fire lit from his fingertip, allowing him to light it. “We're supposed to find more information about them, before I locate their high command. You're to start looking for the Nazarick people. They should be in town already, settling in. This city has a million people, but I'll just escort you to the meeting location, if you don't mind-”

“Just tell me,” Caliban tapped his foot impatiently. “I'll find a way there.”

“Eh? With _effendi’s_ lack of orientation...”

“There are young warriors here who can lead the way, without searing my eyes out.”

“Now that's just rude! I don't poke fun at you for how the Kapudan Pasha dresses you, right?”

“That only proves that my creator has good taste. Now, _go_.”

“Fine, sheesh...” Corazón huffed, not before pulling a clam-shell from his cloak and tossing it to Caliban. “That has「Sound of the Ocean」cast on it, don't lose it. Call me.  _Güle güle!_ ”

Caliban rolled his eyes as Corazón chose to exit by doing a swan dive off in mid-air. “Damn that flashy bastard...”

No one would have heard their conversation; not with Corazón. The Nephilim was one of the few who had eaten the fruit of the World Tree; pledging his soul to Rán, in exchange of great power from within Yggdrasil.The Nephilim not only had tools based around stealth and silence, but his own abilities, granted by the Admiralty, were formidable enough to ensure a field of silence within vicinity of the man.

Caliban rolled his eyes as Corazón, stumbling out of a hay-pile after landing, somehow stumbled and set himself on fire again. If only the「Beleric Key」 had seen fit to cure Corazón's clumsiness, maybe he would accept the mass of contradictions that were Los Deditos of the Fleet's First Division.


	19. XVIII: Bearing

“ _What are you thinking, oh great pirate Sycorax?” A giant sakazuki cup, more like a concave plate, thudded onto the table. “Are you asleep? Tokkuri, Masu! Bring the sake here!”_

“ _Sake? How much more are you going to drink, Nurarihyon?” Sycorax winced as the sound of cracking clay echoed. “Are you sure you should use your summons for such ridiculous things?”_

“ _It's our last day in this world, we should celebrate!” Nurarihyon, grinned back as he raised a smaller sakazuki cup to her. “It's not like you to hold back, Ms. Heartbreaker.”_

“ _If the ship melts I'll get Checky on your case.”_

_Nurarihyon giggled. Sycorax relaxed; she was not alone here. She was not at the end of her life, laden with regrets and desperately living vicariously through this group of youngsters. They were definitely all youngsters to her; at eighty years old, few elderly in Japanese society were clearly involved in MMORPGs, never mind their Dive counterpart._

_A_ _「_ _Spirit Arrow_ _」_ _flew past one cheek to thud into the wall on Sycorax's left side. This happened at the same time a gun report resounded._

“ _Checky-san is too busy keeping Librobum Prohibitorum and Icarus apart. Those two have an interesting relationship,” Nurarihyon argued._

_Sycorax turned slightly to watch the direction the projectile had come from. Titania was brandishing her Legendary-class Lyra drunkenly, against the silhouette of a naval captain in full dress uniform. A giant teddy bear Mechanic stood between them._

“ _No,” she observed. “Checky is separating Read Admiral and Titania, so those two guys should be together in the hold.” She sighed. “I'm so jealous of them.”_

“ _For making out in the hold?”_

“ _Things that merit an 18+ rating is forbidden in YGGDRASIL.” Sycorax reminded him. “As for them... more like for having such a close relationship.”_

_Librobum Prohibitorum and Icarus had been refused entry to Ainz Ooal Gown for being technically outside of society. Sycorax simply did not care to comment on the discrimination that seemed inherent in so many gaming companies._

“ _I... I was supposed to go to an_ _akachōchin_ _for a group date. Probably... was it today?”_ _Sycorax continued. Truth be told, she was at the opposite spectrum to go on mixers, but she would go, given the chance._

_It was for the same reason why she had stayed with the game and her friends; Kaiō Michiru the human just wanted some company to ameliorate her boredom and estrangement from the rest of her family._

_A hand absently patted on top of her hat. “Don't worry about it,” Nurarihyon smirked. “You'll cook your head with all that thinking if it was an all-you-can-eat or an all-you-can-drink establishment.”_

“ _I can think, Nurarihyon! It was just the one time!”_

“ _Yeah, the one time your empty head nearly cost us the Skidbaldnir,” he teased back. “That's a_ World-class Item _, you know. Your priority sense is amazing.”_

_Sycorax frowned back at him. How was the Skidbaldnir taking a full broadside of cannons her fault?!_

“ _What are you doing to my Sycorax, you pervert onmyoji?!” A wooden hammer sent Nurarihyon away from Sycorax, before deceptively strong yet slender arms smashed Sycorax against a plump chest. “Ah, my dear!”_

“ _A- Akemi-san, I can't... breathe... help...! Ahh...!”_

_Sycorax barely managed to slip away from the Dark Elf before the groping could begin. “Sorry I'm late! I had to sabotage- I mean, send my elder sister somewhere.”_

“ _Yamaiko-san must like her a lot, to put up with your harassment. And the feeling is probably mutual-”_

“ _Oi, everyone! I'm here!” Akemi yelled as she bodily dragged Sycorax out to the ship's quarterdeck._

_A roar of cheer arose, from both inside and outside the great cabin._

“ _With that, all thirty-seven of us are here!” Akemi called. “Well then, everyone! The MC for today is me! And helping me is our Guildmaster, the Heartbreaker, Sycorax-san!”_

“ _Eh? Wait, Akemi-san-!”_

“ _So, all of us gave up this evening to gather in YGGDRASIL one last time!” Akemi continued. “It's time to show off, obviously! So... Admiral on deck! Psycho-chan, it's up to you!”_

“ _Akemi-san...!”_

“ _Just do it like you always do!”_

“ _You rock, Psycho-chan!”_

“ _You shut up!” Sycorax complained, though she was grinning as she gave the hand command to the Skeleton crew awaiting orders. “Hoist the colours!”_

_Somehow, the revelry had dragged everyone's jacks around the decks of the Fleet's ships. Every single jack was black, bearing a white symbol that represented each Jolly Roger that the members of the Fleet bore:_

_A Taijitu symbol._ ☯

_The Android robot._

_The Admiralty anchor._ ⚓

 _A sun ideogram._ ☉

 _The Pound sterling symbol._ ₤

 _An hourglass._ ⌛

 _A Cyrillic letter._ Ќ

 _A white crown._ ♕

_A broken heart._ (Broken Heart )

_A heart-shaped hedera leaf._ ❧

 _A white-feathered arrow_ ➳

_...the list went on._

_The flags bearing all manner of dingbat sigils, numbering up to thirty-seven individual Jolly Rogers. At its head was the flag of their Guild: sable a fess wavy between two pole-stars, Arctic and Antarctic, in argent._  

 _The rumble of the Grand Orchestra started. Across the waters of Mimisbrunnr, the violins and the brass resounded, echoing the ancient words of pirates in fiction and fact as the colours made their ascent on the masts of the_ Queen _, finally reaching with the last words, sung, of the song:_

 

_Yo ho, all hands,_  
_Hoist the colours high._  
_Heave ho, thieves and beggars;_  
_never shall we die...!_

 

 _Sycorax, a grin of defiance crossing her face, made the next signal. “I believe it be the great Roberts who said this: '_ In honest service there are thin commons, low wages, and hard labour. Yet as gentlemen of fortune we enjoy plenty and satisfaction, pleasure and ease, liberty and power... so what man with a sensible mind would choose the former life, when the only hazard we pirates run is a sour look from those without strength or splendour? _' Granted, he wasn't playing YGGDRASIL, or facing the same hazards as all of us.”_

_Her friends roared and laughed their agreement. Nurarihyon's cackle even brought a fresh wave of fire about the glowing deck._

“ _Ten years ago, I formed this guild with the lot of you, in the wake of the sinking of my first lady, the_ Bourreau des Cœurs _.” Sycorax started. “I became your commander, aye, your bloody captain, and later Commodore. We have formed ourselves a Fleet, our troop of girls formed by One Piece, who have seized the admiralty of Ægir with us. We have many shared experiences. And, I might be an idiot in everything but cartography and books, but you, all of you, have made my reputation, and for that I thank you, my friends. Here we are now, at the eve of our enterprise breaking, and yet all of you... all of us have come to celebrate the passing of an era.”_

“ _Eh...”_

“ _Wait...”_

“ _That's right.” Sycorax spread her arms out. “These colours might be nailed, these worlds deleted, these ships forgotten in the passage of time... and here we are! There are no more rules to follow! Hence, as the ultimate authority vested in me by the Fomori Fleet, I will preside over the wedding of two friends. Icarus, and Librobum Prohibitorium!”_

_Wolf-whistles echoed, and scuffles ensued as a Birdman and a Sylph were pushed up on the quarterdeck._

“ _Dearly beloved, we be gathered here today to nail yer gizzards to the mast, yer poxy curs, or something like that~” Sycorax started. “Two loving men will be joined in holy matrimony with reverence and honour, for the next ten minutes. If any person here can show cause why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony for however long the Marriage status in YGGDRASIL will last, without considerations as to the genders of both parties due to surprisingly archaic rules prevalent online, belay yer traps...”_

* * *

Clutching the left side of her face, Sycorax groaned as she laid on the lone bed in the room. “Hot towel. Get me one.”

“Y- Yes!” Nereus' presence departed from her side. The two of them had a watch system going on, each of them really sleeping only half the night. It was enough, really, but something must be wrong with Sycorax's eyes, or lack of one. “Admiral! Your eye...”

“Now.”

Nereus was back soon, a white towel dripping moisture on the bedclothes. Sycorax groaned, pulling off her eye-patch and grabbing the towel to press to her face. “Thanks...”

“Admiral... your eye...”

Fumbling around her lashes and thumb pressing into the cavern, Sycorax groaned as she dug out the weapon that she had kept underneath. Starved of power, the Eye of Stheno simply laid there on her palm, wrapped in her fingers under the towel.

“...how did we fail?”

“It's alright, Nereus.” Sycorax started to sooth him. “I did this myself.”

“Eh? Why?”

“This is the price of my knowledge,” Sycorax groaned. What had possessed her to dig out the eye of her avatar just for _that_ class? Oh, wait, yes, she was an _idiot_. “An eye to drink knowledge from Mimisbrunnr. And there were a lot more rituals involved.”

A warm hand touched the towel. Another hand laid itself on her own hand. “Still, seeing you like this breaks my heart, Admiral. Is there no way to resolve your pain?”

“No,” Sycorax clutched at her head. The stabbing pain of her old wound was fading, but the trauma of such a wound was still a physical injury on a delicate sensory organ. “Don't worry. The Articles provide for me.”

In a holdover of real-life articles of agreement, the guild had sat down to detail recompense for each and every body part severed in battle. Despite the system of YGGDRASIL where dying was followed by revival to a wholly repaired body, it was still amusing to see that a severed limb, in normal circumstances a severe injury, was still awarded with a modest amount of gold on report.

“Yeah, but... what about battle effectiveness?” Nereus changed tacks. “And painkillers? Cutty and Prospero can whip up some salves, and I can learn something about first aid-”

“Nereus. I can handle it.” Sycorax lifted up the towel, grimacing at the bloodied stains on the linen. “Ah... no wonder.”

She folded the towel back up, squishing it under her eye-patch as it came back down. “This will be fine. Any developments in the night, Nereus?”

Nereus harrumphed, but reported: “Bran came with a reply to your letter. I have no opened it.”

“You had better not.” Taking the letter, she broke the seal and pulled out the sheet contained many hurried scribbles, reading through it with her sole eye squinting.

“Busted~” Sycorax complained as she finished reading the special delivery from Momonga. “And here I was hoping that he would have agreed to kill them with me...”

“That's not good, Admiral,” Nereus admonished, though he did it lightly. “If Nagato and Momonga-sama decided on the same conclusion independently, it's probably good advice to follow. Right now, the rest of the Admiralty aren't here, so you'll have to settle for the Council of Ten.”

It was common sense in YGGDRASIL that a Guildmaster could not rise without a decent amount of savvy, if not actual knowledge of member relations and the like. The exception to the rule was, as always, Hostis Humani Generis; they always seemed to act on their collective madness as directed by Sycorax, who was possibly the craziest pirate on the deep blue seas. His creator, the 'Fairy Archer' Admiral Titania, had once summed up the Fleet's basic command structure to the then-new Vice-Admiral Android OS like this:

“ _Our missions? Oh, it's whatever_ _Psycho_ _-chan decides is the most fun. Like, the other week we took on the God of the 6_ _th_ _Day with only the thirty of us- don't worry, most of us only died once! And we won in the end! That's why our Commodore Sycorax is also called Psycho-chan~_ ”

Sycorax folded up the paper, and stuffed into her inventory portal with the air of having suffered great offence. “I know...! I knew it, but I'm a pirate... my thirst for revenge is warring with my reason.” A sigh burst from her lips. “Caliban and Corazón should have received the new orders that I didn't mis-write. They can hash it out with the people from Nazarick. Let's concentrate on our end.”

Such  _laissez-faire_  arrangements would have left many strategists frothing at the mouth. In fact, Sycorax's management style of leaving it to be improvised was unpredictable, and thus as dangerous as a double-sided blade.

It simply could not be helped. Sycorax's luck was such that she could become a spanner in the works to her _own_ plans, not to mention those of any hapless bastards that happened to be in her way. Sycorax had tested it before; ten dungeons, ten plans with three backups – all failed. Therefore, henceforth Sycorax simply outlined the overall goal, the subsequent goals, and left it to her guild-mates to figure it out – which they did, once Sycorax's absurd luck was harnessed in her favour. In that sense, Hostis Humani Generis could be thought of as shackles to contain the Hurricane Sycorax of misfortune.

“And what of Momonga...-sama?”

“He's probably wondering how the fuck I managed to even build a ship, not to mention assemble a fleet of ships _and_ a guild willing to sail with me when I'm a soused airhead.”

“Well, I believe he is steering well clear of the path of carnage,” Nereus murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing... but, I must say, Pirates Royal don’t seem to get much respect.” Nereus changed the subject.

“Piracy was a trade rooted in democracy,” Sycorax corrected. “The 'royal' in Pirate Royal is multi-layered. Firstly, it referred to the links of privateers to the various crowns of nautical empires – that is, pirates got their start as mercenaries. Secondly, it’s a nautical term; the royal mast stands at the top of the main mast, further than even the topgallant. Finally, it’s an ironic joke at the fact that, as pirates, they literally recognised no kings and laws aside from the crew's collective madness.”

For pirates so vicarious and vicious in answering the call of Rán, that it literally became a part of them, they were the ones who truly could be called the kings of the sea... such was the boundlessness of their ambitions, the Pirates Royal.

* * *

As Brain Unglaus started to walk towards the room that Gazef loaned to him, footsteps were heard downstairs. He poked his head down, blinking as the unfamiliar sight of the young dark-haired man crossed his line of sight.

“Erm... who are you?”

“Caliban. You’re Brain Unglaus, Warrior-Captain Stronoff’s... guest.” There was no hint of criticism in his voice. Even Brain Unglaus, who tended to flare up at the slightest provocation, could tell that this young man genuinely had a problem with using words.

“Ah, yeah...” Brain swallowed. “Wait... didn’t you follow Stronoff to the castle? Rolente Castle?”

“Yes... I was headed to the mess hall.” Caliban looked around. “Must have taken a wrong left.”

“You’re a long way away from the Palace,” Brain said. He would have had a more extreme reaction, but hunger was currently impairing his amazement at the fact that a man could get so thoroughly lost that he ended up in a completely different location from his intended destination. “Didn’t you meet a guard?!”

“Yes. He said to walk straight down the road.”

“How can anyone get lost on a straight road?!”

“Dunno. Maybe he gave wrong directions.”

Brain rubbed his stomach. Since Gazef had been kind enough to leave some money for him, he was going out for his first decent meal in weeks. Frowning, he looked at the young man who was also staying with the Warrior-Captain, and felt his eyes bug out. “How about I show you the way... and you tell me how the fuck does anyone own _three_ katanas?!”

* * *

“Right! I said RIGHT! Wait, why did you turn left?!”

“Go up the stairs! Wait, why did you miss the stairs?! Are you a _blockhead_?!”

“Shut up.” Caliban retraced his steps, jogging along next to an increasingly nervous Brain up a flight of stone stairs.

“Alright,” Brain rubbed his temple. “Calm, patient, he’s got three katana, he’s got to have some ability even if he’s a rich kid- oi, don’t run off when I’m not looking at you! Wait, that’s not even the right direction! The Castle’s not even that way! How can you get mistaken and go that way?!”

“Like I know,” Caliban scowled. “Your indications were too messed up.”

“There’s no way I’m at fault here!” Brain yelled back. “Are you a fantasista?! Let’s get lunch first, or I’m really gonna get upset. Take my hand. As in, put your hand in mine, I’m not gonna be the one to tell Stronoff that you got lost. Dammit!”

 _There was no way that this guy went to Ery_ _u_ _entiu,_ Brain thought to himself as he led the young warrior along like a child. Everyone knew roughly where the former home of the Eight Greed Kings were; Eryuentiu was in no way forbidden land. However, Caliban would have been hopelessly lost in the deserts within five seconds, never mind if a competent guide could be bought or persuaded to bring him there.

Locating a tavern was easy; locating a table was even easier, and ordering lunch the easiest. Two plates of game-meat stew, two slices of dark rye bread, with a jug of beer with wooden cups, and they were set.

Brain scarfed down half his plate before he spoke. “So... can you tell me, how the fuck does anyone get so lost on a straight road, with the castle in full view of the city, and with direct line of sight?”

“My...” Caliban drank his own stew before he shrugged. “My admiral just says that I have no sense of direction.”

“Admiral?”

“The boss of our fleet.”

A sea-man, Brain noted. Must have found some treasure, if he was this far inland. “And the swords?”

“My admiral gave them to me.”

Must have been one _hell_ of a treasure. “ _Gave_?”

“I lead a division of fighters.”

“So... you’re the strongest fighter of your... troop?”

“Crew.” Caliban corrected. “I guess.”

Brain gave a humourless laugh. “But it’s useless. We’re still mere children pretending. It’s a delusion.”

Caliban simply drank some more, before he took a slice of the bread to sop up the juices on his trencher. “I think you’re fussing too much over the details.”

Brain’s fist had landed on the table, drawing some attention from the tavern’s customers. “Listen, you. The peak I saw and the level we humans can attain... it is far too high. We can’t protect anything like... this!”

Caliban’s eyes fully focused then on Brain. Utterly calm and assured, his very demeanour spoke volumes for his enormous self-confidence. No, not self-confidence; such behaviour was not out of haughtiness, or arrogance, because to him, it is the simple truth that he cannot be defeated.

“You misunderstand me. Weapons and arts are but an opening act. True heroes kill with their _eyes_.”

A burning smell filled the air, like it was being scorched in the sun. Some sort of silent pressure began to seethe, within the remnants of Brain’s heart. Nobody knew if it first came from the bone spoons in their hands, or the intense fighting spirit that had been set aflame after being starved of passion’s fire.

Both spoons shattered as they met each other over the table. The clash of their wielders’ was so intense, bone shards had already stabbed into the pine table as both men got up and ran for the door, barely even pausing as the jangle of silver hit the unvarnished pine.

Steel whispered in the rub against its scabbard, and blades rang with power in an absent clash before their owners took steps back from each other.

“You...” Brain spat on the ground as reality sank back in. His katana went back into its sheath, unused. “I used「Instantaneous Flash」and you actually managed to block it... well, it just goes to show that those swords of yours aren’t just trophies.”

Caliban looked down at the black blade in his hand. He scoffed, and pressed his palm into the edge of the hilt, drawing a small trickle of blood. “Accept this sacrifice, and sleep, Shuusui.”

“W- What are you doing?” Brain demanded. The street was already clearing as people saw a fight about to begin. “You’re keeping your sword?!”

A black portal shimmered, and from it Caliban pulled a shorter blade, one sporting the faces of bodhisattvas. He unsheathed the blade, testing it in his hand. “This _tantou_ is Aizen Kunitoshi. It is currently the shortest blade on my body to which I have ready access to. It is also the sword I mainly use against weaklings.”

“Weaklings?!” Brain’s rage, broken since his defeat, came to the fore as he brandished his sword. _The attack I devised to defeat Gazef was deflected by her with just a pinky finger._ _This young man who still smells of milk... I can defeat him!_

While the thoughts were laughable, Brain could perhaps be forgiven on the basis of having never seen Caliban kill a pack of Barghest with one slash of a boot-knife. Brain was one of the strongest swordsmen amongst humans, and had even fought the strongest Floor Guardian of Nazarick, Shalltear Bloodfallen, in a physical fight. He had lost, but he had survived. While Caliban could not claim to be equal in stats to her, he was still the ultimate warrior fighter of the Fomori Fleet. He was an existence that had surpassed humanity’s current limits. Most importantly, though, was his past as a weak NPC who had somehow fought more persistently than any player of YGGDRASIL could have expected. That had been the trait that had caused his unwitting promotion as the leader of the Third Division, and his new status as the Fleet Admiral’s son. Whether as a weak Yōkai or as the Third Division Commander, he never underestimated people.

Brain slowly exhaled while lowering his body, and returned the katana to its sheath. His feet were planted firmly on the cobblestones, as he took a long, narrow breath. Consciousness sharpened, to a single point, released in an enormous wave upon reaching its limit. He had created a world where he could sense sound, space and presence within three metres.

This was one of his original Martial Arts – 「Field」.

One explanation for Martial Arts was, Martial Arts created unexplainable phenomena that are drawn from the warrior’s own aura. Another way to explain it would be ‘the use of magic through weapons’. Martial Arts allowed one to prepare for many different situations – as such, Warriors trained to learn various Arts, and master them in order to truly make them their own. This was especially true for Adventurers.

「Fortress」 would allow one to shrug off powerful attacks and fight large opponents head-on.「Severing Blade」 would allow one to take down strong opponents in a single attack, by channelling aura into the blade and releasing it in a powerful blast.「Heavy Blow」 with a crushing weapon was effective against heavily armoured opponents. And, 「Ability Boost」was standard procedure for all warriors.

As for Brain...

「Field」was a skill that raised one’s accuracy and evasion to the limit. Combined with Brain’s trained body, he could perceive and deflect a rain of arrows without a scratch. What’s more, his body was capable of movements precise enough to split a grain of wheat at a distance.

All life ends when vitals are cut.

With that specialisation on killing with a single blow, there led to his second original Art – 「Instant Slash」. From there were more preparations: devoting practise and effort, all into that single, unavoidable, fatal slash.

The result had been born: a slash so fast, not even a drop of blood remains on the blade. In his hubris, he had felt that 「God Slash」was a skill bordering on the realm of the gods. Even its successor, his trump card,「Wind of the Great Forest」was an Art worthy of praise.

Until he met her.

Caliban waited, even as Brain activated 「Ability Boost」in preparation.

Even though he had never faced Martial Arts – had never paid attention during Gazef’s drills, or much more – Caliban was not afraid. Under his skin dwelt the Divine-class「Kavacha」, an armour literally embedded into his skin that reduced all attacks, both physical and magical, by ninety percent. Afterwards, the natural defences of a level 100 NPC would ensure that he received minimal injuries at most, and those injuries would be dealt with by its counterpart 「Kundala」.

Admiral had not banned fights; actually, Admiral had been silent on the topic of fighting humans. The Council of Ten had generally agreed that Caliban would not drag out a fight, would not attract attention to himself with his lack of talking, and with Gazef’s protection, the Fleet Admiral had thus neglected to actually _ban_ Caliban from fighting.

Caliban was not up to facing court-martial, though, especially not against his mother figure. So he waited, waited for the other to make the first move, waited for Brain’s patience to stretch and his awareness to wear thin-

Brain moved, grunting with effort:

“ _Tsuu_!”

His katana exploded from his sheath and cut towards Caliban’s bared neck. It came and went like a flash of lightning; by the time the light entered one’s vision, the head would have already fallen. Millions of repetitions... a speed that entered the realm of gods...

Brain had prepared to use the flat of the blade, simply to smack the boy around. Therefore, imagine his surprise when, somehow, the tiny blade half the size of his own was already resting on the hemp of his shirt, digging a small hole towards his sternum and his beating heart. And Caliban...

 _When did he move?_ Brain thought to himself, having never noticed even with his「Field」where Caliban had not only side-stepped his blow, but also moved to stab him. Not even... not even _she_ had been able to move, as if outrunning his 「Wind of the Great Forest」.

This man... this young man... Brain was sure of it.

“I think,” Caliban spoke, “you’re misunderstanding something.”

Brain jerked his head in a sharp nod.

“I think,” Caliban continued, “we should get to the castle. Admiral has ordered me to stay with the Warrior-Captain, lest I become lost.”

Another nod.

“Excellent. Aizen Kunitoshi, you will have to wait a while longer.”

The long katana clattered to the ground, disabled with a single jab with the short sword’s pommel. Caliban then sheathed his sword back and put it into the inventory. He turned on his heel to go.

“That move... that monster deflected it with her left pinky,” Brain suddenly burst out. “Can you...?”

“...feelings are just that, feelings. Blame them.” Caliban started to walk away.

“Wait!” Brain called. He stopped.

“Could... one cut a mountain with a sword?” Brain asked.

Something like that was impossible. Any child would know something so obvious. There was therefore no particular reason for Caliban to actually give the idea thought and then lie, turning his eyes that seemed so sharp back towards Caliban, and reply with the utmost fact:

“There is nothing in this world I cannot cut.”

There was no reason to lie. It must therefore be the truth.


	20. XIX: Before the Mast

The vagaries of caring for an eye injury had never actually occurred to Sycorax. The most she had ever needed speciality ophthalmological care was during the first aid classes taught in the Yokosuka Academy. Even then, eye injuries didn’t tend to make it to the roster of commonly sighted battlefield injuries – when eye injuries usually meant that someone had put a bullet through your brain, the victim usually had other more pressing worries than just losing an eye. Thankfully, Prospero had had the foresight to prepare some eye-drops for numbing the pain and some herbs to boil before pressing on the wound, so it did not take long for the pain to subside and for her to go about her business.

“Admiral, are you alright? We have to leave soon...”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Sycorax assured him. “Nereus, I need you to go out and take breakfast. Listen to any news that might have come in. Bring up a trencher for me.”

Sycorax promptly set out three types of paper and her own dispatch box on the rough wooden table as she spoke.

“Correspondence?” Nereus blinked. “Nagato is still data-mining with the navigation department, right?”

“Yes, we’ve been focused on building our resources and connections so far, but it’s going to be a toll on our combat forces,” Sycorax explained. “Especially with that Merman Navy and the Agrand problem. I’m thinking about giving Nagato the permission to organise an assault force using the Fifth Division as vanguard, with the Second Division as support.”

“Ah... some time alone for Phaeton and Ariel.”

Sycorax put down the pen she had been holding to give him a look. “Their shore leave is over. Everyone should do their part.”

“Alright,” Nereus nodded.

“And then,” Sycorax continued, “I’m writing another letter to Caliban, to remind him not to attract trouble, eat well, wrap up warm, don’t get bullied or lost, that sort of thing. Also to tell him that the Nazarick people should be in the city already.”

“Caliban is... a good boy,” Nereus faintly stated. “He’ll listen to them.”

Yes, the Third Division Commander listened to orders, quiet, possessing of strong will and strong heart... a pitifully nice chap, overall. To Nereus, and the spirited horse with no bridle within his heart, though... Caliban was terrifying, because he behaved as though the very concept of defiance _does not exist_. There is no liking or disliking to an order directed at him; Caliban would probably just ignore how said order relates to the situation without batting an eye, even if the Fleet Admiral just sent him to his demise. Those thoughts had already been excised from his mind.

“I didn’t know that you were such a good friend of Caliban’s, Nereus.”

“We get along,” Nereus shrugged. “He’s a little bit awkward, but I think that’s more because he used to never have to talk to people when he was... you know. With Admiral Nurarihyon. Everyone knows how you promoted him, Admiral, pardon my saying.”

“And did you think anything strange about that?” Sycorax asked.

“Not at all. He did go above and beyond his duty,” Nereus teased back. “The Admiralty decided it.”

“...oh.” Sycorax turned back to the rest of her correspondence. She looked as though her attention were not on the letters, but instead on a very faraway sight. “I worry about him, you know. I mean, I’m the Fleet Admiral,” she hurriedly clarified. “It’s my job to worry about everyone of the thousand or more souls between our nine ships. Caliban, though...”

“And you are a pirate. It is your own choice how to command a crew, within reason.” Nereus acknowledged this fact. “It must be hard to walk this rope between creator and creation.”

Sycorax shrugged, beginning to lay out parchment and paper for her correspondence. “I suppose. Let’s see... the order for Nagato, a letter to Momonga, and a letter to Caliban... you say that Corazón is with Caliban?”

“In the shadows, Admiral.”

“Then I’ll tell the messenger to give it to Corazón to give to Caliban.” Sycorax chuckled. “Knowing Caliban, he would get so lost not even Huginn and Muninn would be able to find him. And... the accounts for Arwintar, and the stuff for Foresight...”

She put the pen upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering before she cast her skill.

“「Automatic Secretary」.”

「Automatic Secretary」was a skill common to the Scribe class series in YGGDRASIL. Normal Scribes used it as a method to quickly write by dictating to an enchanted instrument. Magic Scribes used it to write down low- and mid-grade grimoires. Sycorax found an unorthodox use for that skill in her Shorthand papers, but the skill itself was indeed incredibly versatile.

“ _maru-gatsu batsu-nichi/enter_...”

* * *

~'✵'~

〇月 ✕日

_Suzuki-san,_

_I’ve finally cleared up all the accounts in Arwintar. Because of the heist, my subordinate and I are already departing on the road after I send this letter. I estimate that, given our slow pace of travel, we may reach E-Rantel within two to three days. Possibly longer._

_Also, I have received your letter, and it raises some key points about this organisation of infidels. Since my dear Caliban is already within the Kingdom, I have instructed him via letter to begin investigating the Eight Fingers from his end to assist your subordinates. Please relay via official channels – to give my boys back with the Fleet some practise with handling paperwork – a description of the Nazarick delegation, if you have not already done so. I fear for my literal-minded boy, he is strong but... how do I say it, independent thinking is not his strong suit._

_Also, I have already sent an order to my Fleet to organise a coastal raid. Nazarick is on the opposite side of the continent, but I don’t know about any subordinates you might have sent. If Nazarick is adversely affected by this raid, please rest assured that I will do my best to provide suitable compensation._

_With that important business done, Suzuki-san, it really feels like my karma would kick in any time soon. I usually don’t make too many plans because of my luck, so having so many concurrent plans just makes me worried._

_Please remain cautious during this period; somehow, things have a habit of blowing up in my face, and in the faces of those around me. I think you and I both know it._

_Best,  
Kaiō Michiru_

~'✵'~

* * *

~'✵'~

〇月 ✕日

**Operations Order #001-2138 – INFANCY**

**Security Classification: EYES-ONLY**

**Situation**

Area of Interest: Pantaleone Island

Area of Operations: Lagoon of Pantaleone Island, Cetacean village, Sahuagin raids around the Admiralty Ship (AS) _Spruce_

  * Terrain: Harbours, Beaches, open ocean (if necessary)
  * Weather: Variable according to the will of the Admiralty or Ariel. Storms to be expected at the turn of autumn.



Enemy Forces

Composition, Disposition, and Strength: Fleet Quartermaster Nagato has estimated around 300 Sahuagin raiders for every raid performed. Nagato has also earmarked a Cetacean village as a potential threat to the Fleet’s resources.

Recent Activities: Sahuagin have been raiding, particularly focused on currently designated bait ship  _Spruce._ Cetacean village remains ignorant of Fleet activities.

Locations and Capabilities

Sahuagin settlement earmarked on littoral region by First Division Amphibious Combat Nereids. Capabilities according to  _Game Encyclopedia_ are as follows:

>   * Racial Traits: +2 Strength, -2 Intelligence. Sahuagin value combat ability above all else, and scholarly pursuits mean absolutely nothing to their race.
>   * Sahuagin have the aquatic subtype, meaning they move properly in water as their default habitat.
>   * Sahuagin base land speed is 9 m/s. Sahuagin also have a swim speed of 12 m/s.
>   * A Sahuagin has a bite attack, which deals by default 1-6 points of damage, and two claw attacks that each deal 1-4 points of damage. The claws are considered the Sahuagin’s primary natural weapon.
>   * A Sahuagin can speak naturally with Sharks (and only Sharks). It can also use the skill 「Handle Animal」to teach tricks to sharks.
>   * Sahuagin can survive out of water for est 1 hour depending on its physical stats, after which it begins to drown.
>   * A Sahuagin is treated as dazzled whenever it is inside an area of bright light.
>   * Automatic Languages: Common, Sahuagin. Bonus Languages: Aquan, Draconic, Elven, Undercommon.
>   * Favoured Job Class: Barbarian
>   * Level Adjustment: +0. Effective Racial Level: 1
> 


Cetacean village noted on the opposite side of Pantaleone Island from designated Fleet harbour. Capabilities unknown.

Enemy COAs (Courses of Action)

  * Sahuagin and Cetacean populations noted to have rivalry, if not outright hatred of each other, likely related to Sahuagin’s warlike nature and culture.
  * Cetacean village however has ties to Agrand Council Alliance and Merman Navy, which holds unknown capabilities but which is definitely fighting our Fleet.



Friendly Forces

  * Ainz Ooal Gown. Since they are on the other side of the continent, feel free to treat this section as non-existent.



Attachments/Detachments

_Attachments_

  * First Officer Índice of the First Division
  * Yeomen Juliette and Justine of the First Division
  * Medical Officer Pulgar of the Sixth Division
  * A full Band from the Seventh Division (to be requisitioned)



**Mission**

This mission is designed to accomplish two aims: to give the Second and Fifth Division practice in combat manoeuvres, and teamwork, but also to remove the annoyance to our Fleet at present.

The Second and Fifth Divisions of the Fomori, led by their Commanders Ariel and Phaeton, are to set out and destroy the Sahuagin settlement.

This is to be accomplished by whatever means the two Divisions and their Commanders have at their disposal, with minimal investment of Fleet resources.

The mission is to be conducted as soon as possible to get under way upon receipt of operations orders and conclusion of planning. Therefore, it is recommended to put out with the tide at 0600 Fleet time.

Due to the boundless nature of open-sea battle, it is recommend to limit actual combat and scale of destruction away from the main Fleet and its harbour.

The reason for such operations is to remove the obstructions to normal Fleet operations that are attacking our ships, even if at present damages and obstructions are limited to one designated ship.

**Execution**

The objective of this mission is to give the Second and Fifth Divisions practice in all forms of combat, including the planning of field operations. As such, this section will be left to the Commanders named above to fill in.

Transport will be handled by the Admiralty ships  _Cedar_ and  _Spruce_.

However my commanders feel about their strategy, they should also pay attention to the staff provided to them, aside from forcing a surrender and large-scale destruction by brute force. Let’s try not to destroy the sea more than necessary.

**Administration**

Supply will be handled by the Sixth and Seventh Divisions, to equip fit for a blue-water operation. That includes ten days of rations, 500 Rings of Sustenance, and the necessary arms and ammunitions.

Material held by the Sahuagin, including weapons, knowledge, specimens, and prisoners of war, are to be seized and handed to the Navigation Department and the First Division for enhanced interrogation.

Depending on Cetacean position within conflict, Cetacean should either be treated as friendly forces (see Section 1D) or enemy forces.

  * In the latter case, no quarter given.



**Signal**

Standard signals apply. Refer to index of Fleet signals.

**Command**

Commander Ariel will serve as overall commander in Operation: Infancy, due to his ability to cast commander-type spells. Therefore, Commander Ariel is the most suited to provide comms and weather support within the bounds of the  _Cedar_ and its immediate airspace.

Commander Phaeton and the Fifth Division will serve as front-line commander, to provide artillery support and to lead the vanguard in destroying this irritation.

  * With this in mind, succession of command in this operation will therefore pass from Commander Ariel → Lieutenant Commander Alonso → Second Mate Bastian → Third Mate Gonzalo, and so on. Subsequent chains of command will be deployed down the ranks of the  _Cedar_ only, to ensure a smooth chain of command _._



In unforeseen circumstances, permission is granted for either Commander to issue Fragmentary Orders contrary to the mission’s guidelines, so long as the final objectives of Operation: Infancy is concluded.

  * Keep in mind, however, that standard military discipline will apply. The sinking of a ship will still result in automatic court-martial to determine how such a chain of events led to the loss of valuable military resources.



Losses may be expected to reasonable degrees; however, all staff are to take precautions to return alive, by order of the Fleet Admiral.

_Signed and sealed,_

_Sycorax_ (Broken Heart )

Fleet Admiral

~'✵'~

* * *

The largest ships in the Fleet were the  _Queen of the Night_ , the  _Sequoia_ , and the  _Spruce_.

The last of these was at just over four hundred feet in length outside, and oddly narrow in proportion with four or five masts, except for the outsize flight deck that flared out at the front of the ship, stretching from the foremast forward to the bow. Seen from above, she looked very strange, almost fan-shaped at the front. Below the wide lip of the flight deck, though, her hull narrowed quickly. The keel was fashioned out of steel rather than ice, and thickly covered with white paint against rust: the long white stripe running down her middle gave her an almost rakish appearance. To give her the stability which she required to meet storms, she had a draft of more than three fathoms, and was too large to come into any harbour proper without levitation magic. Thus, she was usually moored to enormous pillars of stone the Fourth Division’s druids raised from the ocean floor, far out in the deep water, her supplies ferried to and fro by smaller vessels: a great lady surrounded by scurrying attendants to feed the beasts within her.

“I want her careened,” the Fleet Quartermaster spoke one morning after receiving an order stamped with the Fleet Admiral’s personal and official seals. “How soon can we manage it, Merry?”

The tiny Kobold scratched at his Monmouth cap and fiddled with the striped neckerchief around his neck. “Eh, that depends.”

Nagato’s eyes did not leave the  _Spruce’_ ssilhouette in the distant horizon. “Explain.”

“Right now we’re still hiding, so Ariel’s been using that as a launch platform for the Weathers,” Merry explained. “And then the Sahuagin raids are getting a bit much for the harbour proper, so Phaeton took on the chore of... vermin extermination. So to speak.”

“And where are they now?”

Merry pointed up. Right then, a whoop resounded across the lagoon, complete with the cheers of humanoid and inhuman voices, a riot of sound upon unsuspecting listeners.

“They’re not using Divine-class weaponry, since Pinaka and Treasured Grace haven’t been signed out.” Merry consulted his clipboard. “Ariel has Gekka as his main weapon, and Phaeton has Yew Bow as his default.”

“How curious,” Nagato observed. “Well, we’ll let them have some fun first.”

Above the  _Spruce_ , Ariel danced on the winds, a pink-patterned oil-paper umbrella held in his left hand over his shoulder. This time, he wore red embroidered _hakama_ pants, a red _haori_ over white _kosode_ , and black  _tengu_ - _geta_ sandals dangled from his feet as he floated above the topgallant of the  _Spruce_. His long red hair had been pinned up with a  _kogai_  hairpin into a bun, and stuck with two fan-shaped hairpins with streamers dangling from the long edges.

“This had better be worth it, bird-brain.” He scowled. “I didn’t come out all this way to show off my battle-armour for the Sea Witch.”

“Such disrespect fer an old sea-dog!” Phaeton’s wings flapped, propelling its user around the tops of the masts, restless as any wind. He could not remain still; constant on the winds and always in motion. “I'd get us bloody moving again. I hate sitting like a bunch o' landlubbers in a church. You have wind magic, don’t you? And why are you decked out like those pine trees at December?”

“We decided to drop anchor here, dodo bastard.” Ariel’s hand quickly fled to his hair ornaments. “And these are mine! Vice-Admiral Librobum Prohibitorum left these for me! Along with seasonal patterns and colours...”

It turns out that  _otaku_ comes in many flavours – Shalltear Bloodfallen’s creator Perorocino of Ainz Ooal Gown might be one, but Librobum Prohibitorum of Hostis Humani Generis was another. Both their creations thus unknowingly bore the brunt of their creators’ fetishes.

“Whatever, I’m not up to questioning the Admiralty,” Phaeton unslung the great longbow from his back.

He started pulling on the serving point of the hemp bowstring, where the nocking point was bound with thread. An arrow formed as he made the act of drawing the string – composed of light, capable of inflicting both physical and magical damage of the Wood element, regarded as a magical curse, and unblockable.

“You’d better not,” Ariel puffed his cheeks and sighed. “Beat to quarters!”

While a bit slow, Ariel’s call had the desired effect; the ship’s bell began to ring out, all guns began to assemble, and soon gun-ports began to slide open within the icy hull of the  _Spruce_. A steady beat thrummed as some of the ratings used their feet, dancing a beat against the ice-composed flattened deck.

Ariel raised a hand.

“「Waterspout」!”

A dark spot formed over the water surface, digging a spiral pattern through the waves. A spray ring began to dig itself through the air, and then began to go deeper as a condensation funnel formed, tossing up the contents of the North Sea’s depths; plenty of scaly, monstrous humanoids armed to the teeth with tridents, nets and sabres.

The bowstring twanged.

“「Grapeshot Arrows」.”

The Legacy-class bow, Yew Bow, was a bow focused more on the speed of shooting than the actual power behind it. In the hands of a level 100 Archer like Phaeton, though, each shot had the penetrative power of an artillery shot. Added with the Yew Bow’s elemental damage and unblockable buffs, and it made a handy weapon for an archer focused more on area-of-effect shots than precise ultra-distance sniping. That was not to say that he could not make ultra-long shots;’it was just, in the open seas, ultra-long didn’t make too much sense.

Each arrow, guided by the yew, the wood of death, found itself punching through a vital point of each Sahuagin. Head, torso, heart, artery, neck – it would have been a mastery to see, if the whole shoal of Sahuagin would-be ambushers had not already been reduced to so much bloody mincemeat.

“Shit, that’s gonna mess the decks!” Ariel yelped, having already turned to cast his magic. “「Shark Cyclone」!”

In an instant, a tornado appeared, at a hundred metres in height, and about fifty meters in diameter. It tore through the North Sea, and lifted the water into the air. Within the raging cyclone, numerous shadows could be seen slowly moving about. The shadows that were swimming around as if inside an ocean – shivers of sharks, each about six metres, flocked about within the tornado, like bait thrown to the surface. It was effective against airborne enemies, but also effective at cleaning up falling meat.

“Blood is a pain to get out of the decks, _bird_ -brain!” Ariel yelled at the other Commander.

“Well, the beasts would have a great feast, _airhead_!”

“Oh, that’s rich, how long did it take ya ter come up with tha’, yer feather-dusting bastard?!” Anger had turned out all the polish in Ariel’s voice, changing the words into something closer to the Oiran dialect than anything which would be heard in modern Japan.

“’bout at long as it takes you to skip across the lagoon, yer great pillock!”

At the main deck of the Spruce, an Ogre began to groan. “I think the Commander wanted us to lick the deck clean before it froze.”

“Well, it sure won’t be you,” the silver-skinned Troll named Groat pointed out. “Just let the Itzamna at it. If that fails, use the Hippogriffs and-”

“Noble, Groat, shut yer traps.” A winged Angel archer scowled from her seat on the lowest of the Spruce’s mainmast, a marlinespike efficiently twirling in her hands as she efficiently spliced rope for rigging.

“Yes, Angel,” Both Ogre and Troll bowed their heads to an Angel far smaller than the two of them.

To an outsider, the sight would have been hysterical. To the Fleet’s fifth Division, Second Mate Angel was only slightly less terrifying than their own Commander Phaeton, or Lieutenant Commander Ryal – the highest-ranked of Vice-Admiral Sterling’s creations.

A sudden glow of fire rose from the  _Spruce_.

Looking down from above, Ariel could see that it was only a bundle of old rope in the bottom of a barrel, with three of the ratings ready with buckets to douse it if need be. It produced a prodigious amount of smoke, and some handsome leaping flames; any more distant observer would have thought fire had broken out on the deck. The sound of his polished wooden sandals clacking against the icy decks was the only warning, before the point of a wooden umbrella was pointed towards the ratings.

“The hell is that for?” Ariel demanded. “No open fires on the ship!”

“Beg pardon, sir,” a Pale Rider spoke up. “But the rope can’t be used as anything but more baggywrinkle, and not all of us are immune to cold. So the Commander told us to use it as...”

Ariel studied the Dragonkin and the Naga of the trio. “I see. Be careful.”

“Aye, sir-” the Pale Rider flinched as thumps resounded on the ice. “Boarding!”

“Oh for the love of-” Ariel’s umbrella swung, and peach flowers floated in the wake of its arc, following a breeze that exponentially grew until miniature tornadoes swept more Sahuagin boarders out above the open ocean. All of this had been accomplished by swinging the umbrella, Gekka, which acted as a focus for Ariel’s passive skill「Dust Devil」and added a none-type damage buff.

The bowstring twanged again. “「Flechette Storm」!”

A catastrophic rainstorm of arrows ate through the Sahuagin, at a rate comparable to machine-gun fire. The resulting blood mush, where even bone had been reduced to so much mess, fell into the ocean like so much rain at once.

“You know,” Noble then commented. “For all their complaints, the Commanders actually work pretty well together.”

“「Emerald Eyes」!” Phaeton called then, and a pattern began to trace itself in the air above the ship.

“Oh, you’ve got some good skills too,” Ariel commented as he grabbed the gunwales of the Spruce, and launched himself into the air with a reverse handspring. Pointing the point of his umbrella down as he floated along his trajectory, he made a show of opening it.

“All the Sahuagin here are unlucky today.” Ariel purred as wind began to visibly swirl about the tip of his umbrella. “Do you know why? Because you’re now part of our performance.「Triple Maximise Magic: Storm Bringer」!”

As a Storm Sylph, and a weather spirit on top of that, Ariel’s repertoire was somewhat limited to weather-related spells. The result was a great area-of-effect destruction, but that destruction did not differentiate between friends and foes. The greatest analogy was that Ariel’s damage-dealing weather spells was a bomb that would hit anything in its radius. Thus, Ariel did not use these spells often, either physically acting as a scout to triangulate the Fleet’s ultra-long-ranged attacks or using his shamanistic skills to scout even more. However, he was still a Commander of the Fomori Fleet; his damage output was good enough. With the assistance of Phaeton’s「Emerald Eyes」, a party-wide accuracy buff, He could restrict and aim the damage towards only the enemies of the Fleet.

The  _Spruce_  began to rock as a whirlpool begun. Underneath the waters, cutting razor winds sliced the larger raid party of Sahuagin through their scaly skin and weapons. Debris and blood mixed with the Shredder Storm. The effect was not unlike the sight of raspberries being sliced apart within a blender with milk; red guts trailing their ichor to dye the liquid into another colour. Bubbles and guts floated up to the surface of the whirlwind as blood dyed that part of the seas red.

Floating serenely above, Ariel slung the opened umbrella back along his shoulder, a vision of red, white and black; dyed in the colours of death, the fey-like Commander dropped back onto the decks of the  _Spruce_ , a small smile playing around his face as he turned around to admire his work in dyeing the ocean with the blood of the Fleet’s enemies.

The effect was somewhat ruined, as Phaeton dropped down from above and tackled Ariel into the floor grate.

“Phaeton, you idiot bird-brain, don’t you have any delicacy- ouch! Watch that beak!”

“Come on, you like my beak enough to do that thing with the tongue-”

Having seen the whole thing through a Mirror of Remote Viewing, Nagato hung her head as Merry gave a contemplative sight.

“I hope none of the blood gets into the hull, it’s a pain if animals sense the blood in the ice,” Merry contemplated. “So... I’ll put it on the careening schedule for today?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Nagato pronounced with all the finality she could summon. “Do the  _Cedar_  first, Merry. I might have to fill in temporarily as liaison to Nazarick, but at least they’ll tone things down if they’re on orders to sortie. How much more spirits do we have?”

“As much as we need, Quartermaster, given that some of it is in the Unlimited Flask,” Merry replied.

“Up the rum ration for the Second and Fifth Division for the next three days. Nobody can be drunk on duty once they sortie.”

* * *

On hindsight, it was all Brain’s fault.

“Till now, you were telling us which way to go, weren’t you, Caliban?”

“I- It’s a coincidence...”

“No it isn’t! We’re _lost_!” Brain ran his hands through his hair. “You shut up! I’m going to lead us back, and if you talk or point or do anything to disrupt my direction, I’ll cut you into a million pieces and leave you for the wolves!”

“While that exact approach would be inefficient and impossible, this is... ‘venting’, right?”

“Can’t you just shut up?!” Brain lamented, walking and dragging Caliban by the hand behind him. “How did such an idiot become so good at the sword, it’s so unfair...”

He paused, squinting back at Caliban. “Are you... cursed?”

“Cursed?”

“I mean, if you’re this directionally tone-deaf,” Brain’s words, filtered through the magical effects of the New World, took on the word ‘ _houkouonchi_ ’ meant to indicate idiots, “you must have been cursed by someone you attacked.”

“I was always like this,” Caliban paused. “Admiral said that it doesn’t matter because other people can cast direction magic and lead me there. Then all I need to do is cut through them.”

Brain hummed at that thought. “But... then you can’t do things on your own.”

Caliban smirked. “I serve aboard a ship. A ship’s course is decided by its navigator, and the leader of its Fleet. There is no need for me to have a direction when I board an enemy ship.”

“Well, to each his own path... except you!” Brain retorted, rolling his eyes. “Can you use maps?”

“No. Furthermore, I’m unaffected by any directional spell or ability, or maps.” Caliban explained. “That’s why Admiral sent me with Warrior-Captain Gazef from Re-Ulovale. She was worried that I would get lost on the way to the capital.”

“Obviously! Finding you a guard definitely isn’t for your safety!” Brain sighed after his fierce retort. From fierce bandit to babysitter; such was his life.

At least he was watching a talented one, he conceded. This man who could easily fight with that monster called Shalltear Bloodfallen.

“You keep blabbing about Admiral this, Admiral that. What does that word mean?” he asked next. “I’ve never heard of it. Is that a captain in the army?”

“It’s a title.” Caliban paused, trying to form an explanation. “Admiralty is the power which has conquered the seas by various forces. An Admiral, roughly speaking, is ‘the most admired of the admired’ – someone who has conquered the seas by the force of their superiority.”

“You might as well not say anything,” Brain complained half-heartedly. “I totally didn’t understand that explanation at all.”

“My master once said, it's not that I say too much, it's just that I say too little.” Caliban shrugged. “Since then, I’ve been working to address this. Has it shown any fruit?”

“Not at all,” Brain riposted.

“I see... I see,” Caliban repeated. “I am a weapon of the Admiralty. It is impossible to change my basic nature without the blessing of the Admiralty, after all.”

“What the hell is that? Sounds scary.”

The forest remained completely silent around the two men’s path. Despite the Kingdom’s best efforts, the dirt path that wound around the forest surrounding Re-Estize and its neighbouring cities remained hard to walk, streaked with mud, and rutted with roots encroaching upon the path of humanity.

The trundling of wheels echoed down the road. Four strong horses trotted along, pulling behind them a large black carriage, more than enough to carry six passengers.

“How strange,” Caliban commented as the aged old man driving the carriage passed by them.

“Never mind them, they’re dumb-asses who’re looking to get ambushed,” Brain scoffed. “A forest like this can hide plenty of soldiers... well, if you’re looking to cut off a convoy,” he quickly amended.

“Or looking to rob a carriage.” Caliban smirked slightly at the double-take his words engendered from Brain before walking away. “Ambushing is an art that crosses many jobs in life. Even underhanded methods are methods.”

Behind them, Sebas on the driver’s seat looked back for a moment and blinked. “Strange... such strength can only be inhuman, but why is he walking away from the capital? Hiee...”

From within the carriage, two female heads poked out. “Sebas?” Shalltear Bloodfallen looked bored. “Are we there yet? Why did we stop?”

“I sensed a strong presence that did not look human,” Sebas replied honestly. “But, he has disappeared from a straight path.”

“What? Did he use 「Gate」or「Teleport」?” Shalltear yawned. “So what of it?”

“The man from the Fomori Fleet we were supposed to meet is supposed to have no sense of direction, and matches that exact physical description.” Sebas stroked the end of his short beard in deep thought. “Should we turn back?”

“There’s no need.” Shalltear snapped her fingers. “Come, my kin!”

Beneath Shalltear’s feet, her shadow squirmed, and several wolves protruded forth and bounded through the windows of the carriage. Needless to say, these were not normal wolves. Their dark fur was as black as the night, and their red eyes glinted with cruel cunning.

Level 7 Monster, Vampire Wolf. Shalltear’s skill,「Raise Kin」, could summon numerous monsters, but only these wolves could track their enemy.

“Find the man that smells like the sea, and report his location to me!” Shalltear commanded. “I cannot fail Ainz-sama a second time!”


	21. XX: Bulwark

 

“Are you sure this is alright?”

“Of course,” Lockmyer replied to the peasant who had spoken. The nearby villages under royal decree had started to store excess flour under the Greenwood Hill, over which passed the main road between the capital and E-Pespel. Since there was word of Vampires about, Marquis Raeven had ordered there to be no exceptions – all households were to construct a store for grain in case of emergency. That was why Waldwin, the headman of the nearby village of Green Edge, was here – to check on the flour stored.

Lockmyer was so busy, he did not notice a blue-haired warrior being tugged along by the young man, whom he would have recognised as following the silver-haired woman in Re-Ulovale.

Both men passed by, unmolested... and very definitely lost.

* * *

“If you are gone, to whom shall the Fleet turn to?”

That was the predominant question that happened at the last Commanders’ meeting, before the Fleet Admiral had even been allowed on ashore on the mainland. It was a valid question, for the simple reason of establishing a chain of command. Nobody, though, wanted to voice the exact question; better not to invoke bad luck. By speaking up, Caliban had voiced a large doubt that cast a pall on the Fleet’s future missions.

“Hmm... how does the Fleet usually organise itself?” the Fleet Admiral had spoken then.

“All other ships are organised around the  _Queen of the Night,_ the  _Sequoia_  and the  _Spruce_.” Nagato had replied then. “The crew of these three ships form the executive backbone of the Fleet, barring the field command. The personal creations of the Admiralty, rather than renamed monsters adopted into the Fleet, take precedence. Namely, the creations of yourself, Admiral Nurarihyon, Vice-Admirals CAM, Sterling, Rear-Admiral Rear Admiral, and others would hold the greatest social status in the fleet.”

The Fleet Admiral was smiling then, facing Nagato across the glass hemisphere dominating the table of the  _Queen’s_ great cabin. “In that case, Caliban is the one with the next highest status, as the child of myself and Nurarihyon. Is that what you’re saying, Nagato?”

Multiple heads swung towards Caliban; the impassive Third Division Commander remained staring towards her.

“Aye, Admiral.”

“I see.” A flash passed through her sole green eye. “Caliban.”

“Aye!”

“You will represent our Fleet before Nazarick as the temporarily designated heir of the Fomorians in the capital of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, three weeks hence.” A single index finger, complete with perfectly formed nail the length of a centimetre – short enough to not impede the forming of a fist, but still capable of gouging an eye out – lacquered in clear shellac, pointing towards him. “Your other creator might tend to get lost on the river of life, but you will not get lost, Caliban. Therefore, you must protect anyone showing you the way during this mission – as if they were _myself_.”

In the entire Fleet, the NPC with the highest offensive stats, was Caliban. With this declaration, Gazef Stronoff had unknowingly escorted Caliban into the Kingdom, unaware of the protection so great that had been conferred upon him during the journey.

Now, as Caliban dragged Brain Unglaus behind him in a dead run, the status of beneficiary had changed to Brain.

“Why aren’t we stopping, Caliban?” Brain snarled, trying to tug his left arm back from the maniac with the vice-like grip. “They’re just monsters, right?!”

“Normal wolves do not hunt at noon, do not chase prey for long distances alone, and do not sense of hatred,” Caliban replied tonelessly as his free hand rose up, making a signal of his middle finger and thumb touching.

As they passed by a tree branch, the branch sagged down as a Nephilim Assassin alighted atop it. The wood gave, splintering and sending the black-feather-cloaked assassin crashing down on the two Vampire Wolves. The hidden blades hidden up his arm bracers were unleashed with a turn of his wrists, and Corazón quickly cast the magic buff「Hone Claws」over the blades.

“「Air Assassinate」!”

Both wolves could not react; despite their status as grotesque monsters, the different of sixty-eight levels and custom enhancements  had been made clear in a single move.  Corazón got up standing, sighed as the blood dripped from both blades, and made to follow after Caliban – if only to keep the Commander well within sight.

His head turned, and he did not react as a pair of highly polished Mary Janes felled a tree near him.

“My kin were slain like this... you have guts, I’ll give you that.” The silver-haired girl licked her lips as her ruby-eyed gaze was levelled at him. “You are not human,” she spoke, after a beat of silence.

Corazón inclined his head. “Nephilim, Beleric-Possessed.”

“Oh- ho,” the girl smiled slightly. “Pray tell, what does that race mean?”

“It is a race granted to some creations of the Admiralty using a great item.”

Corazón did not quite understand the circumstances of his creation; merely that he had these abilities, and was created with them thanks to his creator, Vice-Admiral Mano. Therefore, he could not have explained that the Beleric-Possessed Class was granted by the ultimate NPC customisation World item, the Beleric Keys of Yggdrasil. In-game, the Beleric Keys were supposedly the seeds of the World Tree, left in clusters at the bottom of the nine worlds, hidden ever since Navagraha the World Eater started to eat the leaves of the World Tree and an enterprising guild set out to dive to the bottom and rise to the top, simply to explore the worlds of YGGDRASIL.

“Admiralty...” the girl’s face transformed. “You are from the Fomori Fleet!”

Corazón tensed, ready to fight or flee. He could tell that this Vampire was not only a True Vampire, but also at the apex of her power. It would be... terrible.

“The people that Ainz-sama sent us to receive!” The girl gave a curtsy that still managed, in Corazón’s opinion, to both look down on Corazón and yet respect him in measured snobbery that could only be born from extremely powerful people. “Shalltear Bloodfallen, Floor Guardian of the first through third floors of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, absolutely loyal to the Supreme Beings led by Lord Ainz Ooal Gown. You’re here at last! Finally, you’ve wasted a lot of time.”

“Corazón, third of Los Deditos in the First Division of the Fomori.” Corazón saluted, before he pointed a thumb behind him. “The one who ran is the Third Division Commander, Caliban, our main diplomat.”

Shalltear’s face fell at the new complication. “That is... complicated. Your Commander was meant to meet us as soon as possible.”

“You were supposed to have received him in Re-Estize in the first place,  _begum_.” Corazón retorted. “Our _effendi_ is directionally challenged, Bloodfallen  _begum_. I am uncertain as to whether he even realises that you are an ally, and not an enemy. Are there any more people with you,  _begum_?”

“Ah, Sebas and Solution,” Shalltear replied, distracted from her impeding fit of rage by Corazón’s question. “Why?”

“Can they track? Trying to follow the Commander is an uphill proposition.”

“No, neither of them have the skills,” Shalltear’s beautiful ruby eyes glared daggers at Corazón’s black-feathered cloak.

Corazón frowned, thinking before he nodded. “There is a human male with Caliban _bey_ at the moment. He is leading Caliban _bey_ to the capital; therefore, he is nominally under our protection until the destination is reached. Since _ef_ _f_ _endi_ is likely to reach the destination with that man’s help sooner or later, I propose to _begum_ to proceed along to the capital proper to set up a base. I will take to the skies and search the area for _ef_ _f_ _endi_.  That way, you can relay our deepest apologies to Lord Ainz Ooal Gown and receive further instructions.”

To Shalltear, who was fretting about reporting another failure to Momonga, such an offer was a windfall. After all, the affairs of the Fomori were of no concern to the dwellers of Nazarick. “Of course. This is an emergency, we must cut the courtesies short. Corazón, was it?”

“ _Evet, begum._ ”

She nodded, tucking her chin into the high collar of her gown. “May I use your name? In exchange, you may call me Shalltear. None of your strange titles.”

Corazón grimaced, making a note that the Turkish styles seemed to be strange when heard with the translation magic that hung around this world. “Of course, Lady Shalltear.”

He reached into his cloak, carefully teasing out a clam-shell, both halves still closed with a prominent hinge. He handed it to Shalltear. “The spell「Sound of the Ocean」has been engraved into this shell. Open it, and we will be able to talk through... other shells on the same connection, such as mine. It will self-destruct after ten uses, unfortunately; that is the costs of the spell.”

Just like the case with the Beleric Keys, Corazón was also unable to explain the mechanics behind 「Sound of the Ocean」. Originally conceived by Rear-Admiral Surimi when some YGGDRASIL dungeons forbade the passing of messages. Shells that had「Sound of the Ocean」placed within them worked like a cross between a pager or a short-wave radio – the point was to ensure communications that could not be stopped by malevolent architecture, unable to be tapped by divination magics, and incapable of revealing locations while ensuring stable communications. The shell itself would be consumed and self-destruct after ten messages as a cost, which allowed it to flourish as a burner phone of sorts –「Message」always had a definite sender and receiver, whereas 「Sound of the Ocean」was the default messaging system amongst Rán’s Net, spread across the multitude of Brothers of the Coast.

Corazón had chosen not to cast 「 Message 」 and save Shalltear’s mental signature for later use  for a reason.  A s far as he was concerned, he was still an Assassin, and it was bad form to leave anyone a way to attack him through  the mental connection of 「 Message 」 .  The only offensive spells that could get past 「 Sound of the Ocean 」 were sound-based spells like  「 Boomblast 」 , which his silencing ability granted by the Admiralty could save him from.

“See you then.” The True Vampire leapt away, hovering in the air with help from her magic. Corazón turned on his heel and pulled at his feathered cloak, activating the 「Flight」spell woven within the threads underneath. By then, he was floating up to the forest canopy, about to burst through-

“Ow!”

Shalltear turned back at the ejaculation of pain, only to watch the extremely tall Nephilim rub his head and glare at the broken tree branch that had been offensive enough to be in the path of his head.

“What are these people doing...?” she muttered. “I hope their leader isn’t as crazy as all the others... who gets lost on a straight road?”

* * *

“Who gets lost on a straight road? No, seriously, are you cursed?!” Brain continued berating even though they had slowed down, still looking out for the Vampire Wolves.

“It got us away from the Vampire Wolves.” Caliban pointed out. “That is the best thing. Why were they chasing after us, though? I don’t know any local covens.”

“...probably from me,” Brain finally admitted. “A... a Vampire attacked our base. Shalltear Bloodfallen. That was her name. She was so powerful... she is the peak of strength inaccessible to humans- do you understand that feeling?”

Having slowed his run to a slow jog, Caliban did not seem disturbed. “Having the peak of strength condensed right before me... the insurmountable wall to be climbed right there. That sounds wonderful.”

“What?!” Brain flinched. “Even if... even if you die?”

“Those who live by the sword will die by the sword. That is our fated end.” Caliban reflected. “Dying in the pursuit of the summit... if I die, I know someone who can resurrect me.”

Brain snorted. “Fine, say I buy that... what if your Priest decides to stiff you? Leave you dead?”

Brain never got the answer to his question, for then a familiar-looking horse-drawn carriage rolled by a long stretch of barely-paved road, driven by an old-looking butler. The butler took one look at both men, hied his team of four horses, and turned back to the carriage.

Brain’s senses started to grate as a familiar voice shouted:

“「Purifying Javelin」!”

A silvery-white spear hurtled towards Caliban, radiating a pure aura. Brain could barely react as the javelin struck towards Caliban, striking the young man with its particularly large blade. The javelin itself was larger than most men, straining at three metres, and clearly composed of magic.

Brain blinked. No, that was incorrect; his senses had reported a strike, but Caliban stood there unharmed and grimacing. The black katana had been drawn, having knocked the spear off-course into the ground.

“Holy-based ranged magic,” Caliban assessed. “Special skill of... Valkyrie: Lance. Effective particularly against evil-aligned beings, and throwing it with additional mana allows it to never miss its mark.”

Her silky hair shone brilliantly under the dimmed sunlight, and her dewy, crimson eyes displayed otherworldly seductiveness now narrowed into rage. “I saw you run!” Shalltear Bloodfallen, the monster of Brain’s nightmares, screamed towards them. “You were in front! And then you were behind...! This is ridiculous! Weren’t you originally behind us?!”

Brain began to hyperventilate. Both of them ignored him.

Caliban blinked. “Do I know you, miss?”

“Don’t play that with me!” Shalltear hotly screeched. “If not for Ainz-sama’s orders I’d have already sucked all of your blood into a Lesser Vampire for wasting our valuable time and Ainz-sama’s attention!”

By sucking all their blood, vampires could turn a target into a lower-tiered undead that was absolutely obedient towards their master. Vampires were only able to create lesser vampires with intelligence far below their own, but Shalltear, as a True Vampire, could create vampires with an intelligence on the level of a human.

“Know your place, and the honour that your puny Fleet and your dumb Admiral has received with Ainz-sama’s benevolence!” Shalltear continued to rant, clearly having missed out on the human’s presence. “I had had it with your disrespect of Ainz-sama and Nazarick!”

Caliban had quietly listened up to now, where his dark blue eyes narrowed at Shalltear. “Forgive my presumption. The Fleet Admiral Sycorax, whom I represent, has claimed that the denizens of the Great Tomb of Nazarick are polite, well-mannered, respectable beings worthy of respect. I would therefore know them when I see them, and respect them as a result.”

Shalltear looked mollified, but her expression slowly slid towards rage as Caliban continued: “Since you are none of the above categories, I can only presume that you are not the delegates from the Great Tomb, and are instead imposters who would destroy the good relations between our Fleet and the Great Tomb of Nazarick. As the sword of the Fleet Admiral, I will therefore neither think nor reconsider, but will instead move towards the summary elimination of an obstacle to the Fleet Admiral’s plans.”

It had yet to be tested, but NPCs could technically be revived at the  _Queen of the Night_. However, regardless of the fact of his existence being a creation of others, every word of his opinion was, indeed, as true as he believed in them. Therefore, as Caliban swung his sword at Shalltear Bloodfallen, it was done with all the strength of a level 100 warrior with maximised offensive stats and all the resolution of a martyr.

Gold flames sparked; the fury of Caliban’s retaliation had torn at his human guise, revealing the little beastly attributes that had been hidden so long by his passive nature and lack of battles. The Knight of Muspellheimr had accidentally activated his「Flame Aura」skill, casting a pall of golden flames that swept along the length of his sword as he leapt up towards Shalltear and the carriage, swinging his sword towards her eyes in a sharp thrust.

“「Misunderstood: Three-Stage Thrust」!”

Shalltear’s ruby eyes widened, as she realised that this warrior’s sword was moving faster than she could move. It was also loaded with one of the Undead races’ two weaknesses. As a faith-based Magic Caster, Shalltear had resistance against holy-type magic, which was one of the Undead races’ two major weaknesses. Nothing in her arsenal was currently prepared for Fire-type elemental damage of such magnitude.

Sebas and Solution dived from the carriage as Shalltear disappeared in a wink of light using「Greater Teleportation」.

The sword stabbed through the wood, through the under-carriage, into the ground, splitting the hard-packed dirt underneath. Laden with so much force, three thrusts placed with such skill as to be considered ‘instantaneous threefold one-hit-kill’ to anyone without defences on par with Albedo stacked with all of her buffs, sliced through the crest of the raised ground. A yawning chasm began to gap where the sword had cut, slicing through the earth like butter, and it pierced with all its fiery force into the cellar containing excess flour underneath.

Immediately afterwards, all sound was blown away.

The area in which the flour had been stored had been a giant bomb waiting to happen. Now, the entire area went up in flames and heat, as if the air had been laden with vapourised oil and ignited.

Brain, who had seen the explosion, started running. He was lucky; the shock wave struck his back and knocked him down to the gravel, but he managed to avoid being enveloped in the flames themselves. A sudden drop in the force of the air, though, squeezed at his organs, stunning the human momentarily. Fortunately, his body did not burst open, since there was no vacuum to be formed in an outside environment, but he did not know how close death had been.

“Did... he...?”

From within the explosion, a voice spoke “Ah.”

Smoke and dust parted, and Caliban’s dark blue eyes blinked at Brain before he fell into the chasm of his own creation.

“What the fuck, he survived that?!” Brain cursed as he scrambled to look over the edge. “Did he fall to the bottom of the hill? Shit, is the hill still standing?”

Lockmyer stood at one end of Greenwood Hill, having just barely survived the flour stores exploding in a shower of earth and dirt. The villager beside him was not so lucky; the conflagration and resulting drop in oxygen had already turned the man’s partially crisped face blue in death. Then a thump resounded, and the body jerked; another body had landed on the villager.

The second body sat up, and Lockmyer spotted the glint of gold in the man’s ears. The man blinked, sheathing a Katana back into his scabbard – and here Lockmyer’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of the very expensive blade.

“Seemed to have done a lot of damage,” the strange dark-haired man analysed calmly. The lack of panic did not factor in very well to Lockmyer, a former Orichalcum-rank Adventurer. The man was either too confident, or an idiot – a phenomenally strong idiot, but still equipped with the common sense of a brain-dead pigeon.

“You did this?”

The dark-haired man turned to face Lockmyer. His blue eyes held no doubt as he replied: “Yes.”

It was the latter option. As part of Marquis Raeven’s private security, Lockmyer felt extremely justified for protecting this half-wit from more charges of destroying public property.

“You’re under arrest for destroying public property,” Lockmyer declared. “That includes this cellar... come to think of it, what did you do?”

“Went for a walk. I cut a mountain in the way.”

Deafening silence ensued. The destroyed flour cellar built in the mountain – and now a giant hole opening up from the foot of the hill to the very summit of aforementioned hill – belched out a column of smoke.

“I’m just going to put that as destroying Crown property,” Lockmyer decided at last, faintly turning green around the gills. “Come along now, we’ll settle everything in Re-Estize.”

Caliban quietly followed behind the retired Thief. He could have escaped, but he was extremely lost anyway, and this was not the time to be banking on his strange luck to get himself lost before finding himself at the other end of the continent.

* * *

At the other end of the Greenwood Hill, Sebas Tien alighted from his mid-air jump next to Shalltear’s appearance. A moment later, Solution Epsilon, still outfitted in her disguise, made a three-point landing some distance back from the two high-level NPCs.

“What shall we tell Ainz-sama?” Sebas was the first to speak.

“He is definitely our level,” Shalltear admitted, after a long moment of silence. “No wonder their Admiral sent him. But he hasn’t got an ounce of sense at all... actually, none of the Fomori people have any sense!”

Sebas hesitated as he saw a touch of doubt cross Shalltear’s beautiful face. “Shalltear...?”

“What if Ainz-sama’s type is the wild type?!” The girlish shriek echoed across the remnants of forest untouched by the dust explosion, causing flocks of birds to rise up to the skies. “I would do anything for Ainz-sama, but to- to act like the- the _maniac_ who created that blockhead with no sense of direction...!”

“We have to at least get to the capital before that, Sebas, Shalltear,” Solution pointed out. “That person is... he’s demonic.” Since her level was much lower than either personage, she only contributed so much.

“This is indeed troubling,” Sebas nodded. The misunderstandings had simply kept piling up, until they culminated in a mess precipitated by the incredible sense of direction possessed by Caliban. Left with no other options since the carriage had been burnt and chopped to kindling in that exact sequence of events, Sebas led both females towards the direction of Re-Estize – thankfully unobstructed by any flaws in knowing directions in his settings.

* * *

Arwintar vanished into the horizon behind the pair as they continued on their travels. It had been imperative that they left quickly before the authorities caught up to them, or their mercenary friends decided to sell them out. However, it quickly became apparent that some things had already changed three days into the race, when the pair had already skirted past the last city of the Baharuth Empire and raced towards the general direction of the Great Tomb that Momonga had indicated.

Sycorax hummed, rolling a pair of cube dice in her left hand to stare at the pips. “Nereus, stop for a bit.”

The horse she rode was the blue-white of a drowned corpse, bearing duckweed spots and seagrass in its mane. At her command, it slowed to a canter, and she dismounted from it. A heartbeat later, Nereus had transformed back to his human form, looking rather disgruntled as he got back on human legs from a position on all fours.

“What are we waiting for?” he complained. “We’re headed in the right direction, yes?”

“We’re already on the edge of the property, since there’s too many knolls around,” Sycorax replied, dropping the pair of dice on the grassland and watching them skitter down the gentle slope that was definitely imperceptible to the eye, but definitely present. After cracking and rolling, runes appeared over the blocks of bone, cracking with the magic of the runes inscribed into them before exploding in a shower.

Then Sycorax took off her ring. A pair of Seven-League Boots dropped to the ground, which she scooped up and dropped into her item-box. After a heartbeat, she pulled Gáe Bolg, a spear crafted entirely of bones twined together. With the spear slung over her shoulder, she waited.

Seconds later, a dark portal appeared nearby. The figure that stepped through it could only be described as an Overlord of death. Nereus stiffened as the portal came into view, and by the time the Overlord had already appeared, a wavy-bladed kris had already appeared in his hands. While it was true that Undead, especially skeletons like the Overlord, were resistant to thrusting damage, Nereus’ lips twitched with the knowledge that his weapon, Taming Sari, was equipped with the ability to bring a bad day to anything undead, especially since it was imbued with life energy.

“Don’t.” Sycorax slid forward, a teasing lilt to her voice added with her next words. “He’s a friend. How would you prefer to be named... Momonga-san?”

The skeleton, magnificently shrouded in dark robes and an aura of despair, stared at her. Bony fingers of the right hand, threaded with rings haphazardly where some fingers even held more than one, reached out towards her. Iron-gauntleted hands landed on the clearly delineated metacarpals of his palm.

“I should be the one asking that,” Momonga said at last.

“I’m not exactly old in this body.” Sycorax’s only visible eyelashes lowered. “I am eternally young at heart, I find. And we have known each other for so long, yet this is the first time that we have actually met face-to-face.”

The skull’s face did not change at all, but his aura fluctuated. “Our bodies have changed. I... what was I thinking? How could I face _you_ like this?!”

“Don’t say that!” Sycorax’s face hardened. “This is the shape I knew you as. I have crossed rivers and mountains and a continent to find you, exactly as the skeleton you told me you were. I am a Nagini, the same as I told you I was, the same that you have ever seen. It is because of your looks that we have finally found each other... Satoru-san.”

“Michiru-san...” The skeleton’s shoulders creaked as he let go of her hand, and stepped back to offer a deep bow. “You are here at last. Finally, I can say to you... Welcome to Nazarick.”


	22. XXI: Buoy

There were two types of maids in Nazarick.

One group was the Pleiades Six Stars combat maids, who were led by Sebas.

The other was the regular maids who had no combat abilities. They were Homunculi, with a combined racial and job level of one, and they were responsible for various jobs in the ninth and tenth floors of Nazarick. Their leader was the Head Maid, Pestonya Shortcake Wanko.

It was this individual, currently standing next to the prostrated Albedo, whose work was now being tested the moment Momonga spotted a familiar presence racing over the grasslands in approach of Nazarick’s grounds.

“Pestonya,” Momonga started.

The Homunculus bowed. Her head was that of a dog, with a vertical line running down the centre of her face like a scar, stretched with stitches. It felt as though her face had split into two halves, and the result before him was assembled by a really bad tailor. “Ainz-sama?”

“Prepare one of the suites on the ninth floor. We are going to receive a personal guest of mine in Nazarick for the first time.”

“As you command, Ainz-sama.” The ugly head cocked to one side in curiosity, but the answer was in the affirmative.

“And...” the phalanges of pure bone rapped on the desk. “Draw a bath and prepare a large meal for our guests. They are to be accorded every courtesy and accompanied everywhere by someone. The prestige of Nazarick is at stake here.”

“As you command.”

“Albedo.”

“Yes!” The Succubus in pure white nearly leapt in fright at the strict tone of his voice. “What is your command, Ainz-sama?”

“What do you think of Sycorax?”

“I...” Albedo looked lost for a moment, before she gathered herself. “I... Ainz-sama has said that Sycorax...-sama is a being equal to the Supreme Beings, and the ancestor of Punitto Moe-sama. In another lifetime, she would perhaps be one of the Supreme Beings. It would be rude to address any more.”

Albedo blushed, but she raised her head. “Ainz-sama, though I have rationalised all of these facts, my heart must protest. I must say this: Sycorax-sama is still an outsider to Nazarick. To have business with her and her... servants... is well and good. But, to go so far as to invite her into the great dominion of the Supreme Beings, that is...! That is...! She is not even part of the Supreme Beings, how could she handle being Ainz-sama’s queen and head wife? That is... heresy and blasphemy!”

Momonga looked like he was deep in thought. However, the extent of his thoughts actually stretched to: _EEEEEHHHHH???!!! My wife?! Well, not that there’s anything wrong with Sycorax-san, but she’s a Nagini! She doesn’t have legs! And, why would the infamous Guildmaster ‘_ _Heartbreaker_ _’_ _Sycorax,_ _give up her Fleet just to be my_ _wife_ _?!_ _That’s not funny! In this world, the chief threat is Hostis Humani Generis flipping out on us!_

All ten of Sycorax’s recommendations, dating from Nine’s Own Goal’s formation to just before the peak of YGGDRASIL’s heyday, had come from Momonga when his friend’s reputation had quickly ballooned to something like a maverick. Touch Me and Ulbert Alain Odle had actually agreed on something for once; that something went along the lines of ‘do you realise that she’s certifiably insane?’, and the subject had been dropped. Thereafter, Sycorax had gathered her own companions, though the two guilds worked closely together and often traded information and items. Sycorax alone was the staunchest ally Momonga would trust, outside of his guild-mates.

The rest of Hostis Humani Generis, though... If Ainz Ooal Gown was the place for people with grotesque races, then Hostis Humani Generis was often regarded as the dumping ground for people with weird... personalities _._ While the membership was often limited to heteromorphic races that couldn't get into Ainz Ooal Gown, it was generally understood that the overall fourth-ranked guild, which while not officially numerous enough to qualify for the rankings, had plenty of lethal jokes made at the expense of YGGDRASIL’s gaming population in general. Every skilled player had their quirks, but somehow Hostis Humani Generis got a surfeit of talent otherwise hampered by their existence on the fringes of society.

The final list, still intact at the end of YGGDRASIL, read something like a who’s who of the YGGDRASIL top hundred players – Kladenets, World Champion of Jötunheimr; Fairy Queen, Titania; One-Man Night Parade, Nurarihyon; Dead-shot, Phaeton; Geo-effect, Librobum Prohibitorum; the Twin Iron Chefs, Surimi and Himejako; Fighting Doll, Butsumetsu; Great Artificer, Rear Admiral. The list was topped by the Heartbreaker; _The_ Sycorax.

Every single reject of Ainz Ooal Gown, made by one reason or another, seemed to have migrated towards Sycorax and multiplied, to become the greatest of humanity’s enemy on the YGGDRASIL server under Fleet Admiral Sycorax. This kept them busy enough, but sometimes members did come to blows, and the results were... messy. The Fomori Fleet commanded by Hostis Humani Generis had been said to fight off a World-Class Enemy and the top guild Trinity at the same time. Even for the Great Tomb of Nazarick, which withstood the largest player-organised military offensive in the history of the YGGDRASIL server, surviving an assault spearheaded by them was impossible only because of the Great Tomb’s previous position far from the coastal areas of Helheimr.

All thirty-seven of them had been present to marry two friends, for however long an illegal gay marriage would last on the YGGDRASIL server. Momonga just barely managed to squash down his jealousy at the thought.

Now, though, the Fleet would be very important to comb this world for their lost comrades.

“She is my _friend_ ,” Momonga emphasised the final word. “She is a friend of Nazarick. If I do not invite her here, and treat her as my guest, we will come to blows. Albedo, I have noted your concerns, but I feel that Sycorax-san is as much a Supreme Being as I, and she will be treated as such within Nazarick. Sycorax the Heartbreaker is not someone we can afford to offend.”

He paused. “Furthermore, why have you not realised my motive, Albedo?”

Albedo’s mulish expression shifted to one of great uncertainty. “A- Ainz-sama?”

“If it was the simple matter of negotiations, a「Greater Teleportation」would have solved the matter,” Momonga explained. “Inviting Sycorax here is key to a purpose linked to the entirety of Nazarick. That includes you, Albedo.”

“M- Me?” Albedo echoed uncertainly.

“I must go pick her up now,” Momonga dismissed. “Enter them as friendlies, if you please.”

“Yes...” Albedo reflected as Momonga disappeared into a 「Portal」. “Something so great that it could not be done with Nazarick alone... and needed an outside party to come in?”

* * *

After the meeting and subsequent introductions, it was right around reminiscing at the seventh floor of the Great Tomb, that Sycorax’s stomach began to growl. She became increasingly aware that her clothes, while relatively clean, still had the smell of long hours spent outdoors. With that decision made, a bath and a meal was immediately demanded, and Momonga opened a portal to the ninth floor of Nazarick – and by extension, Nazarick’s grand bathhouse.

Lumière grimaced as she drew the short straw. “Head Maid, I... she’s from _outside_.”

Pestonya nodded, the dog-head bobbing up and down like some parody of a plush toy referred to as a Muppet. “Yes, but she is the guest of honour. There must be no setback. The butlers can handle the male; it is the female who is Ainz-sama’s attentions.”

Contrary to her elegant personality and settings, Lumière right now looked anything other than fine as she ran her fingers through long blonde hair the colour of starlight, knocking her eye-glasses askew on her face. “I... we’ve never done this before...!”

Pestonya reached down and straightened the apron of Lumière’s maid uniform, before she handed a brass basin, filled with various canisters and vials and a sponge, on top of a stack of multicoloured towels in the other maid’s arms. “The pride of Nazarick’s hospitality rests upon you, Lumière.”

“Y- Yes!” Lumière squeaked, visions of demonic beings dancing in her head as she sidled into the area generally referred to as the female quarters of Spa Resort Nazarick.

Currently, there was only one silhouette in the large marble bathtub, which could fit many people at once. Stone lions stationed around the sunken tub spouted steaming water into the tub. The door echoed as it closed behind Lumière, and then the occupant’s attention focused entirely on the maid beyond the mists that arose from the steamy bath.

“Good day to you. Here for a bath?”

“G- Greetings, Sycorax-sama.” Lumière awkwardly curtsied. “I am the personal maid assigned to you by the Head Maid of Nazarick’s maid corps for the duration of your stay. Please call me Lumière. I have brought you some bathing effects and towels for your convenience. May I... be of assistance?”

“Maid?” The white-haired ghost straightened her back, swimming towards Lumière to peer at her with one green eye – the left eye was partially obscured by the curtain of white hair, yet Lumière squeaked as she noted the complete lack of eyeball underneath. “You’re... what was your name again?”

“L- Lumière, Sycorax-sama.”

The next words from the outsider stunned the maid. “Do you know Coup De Grâce?”

“Y- You know Coup De Grâce-sama?” Lumière eagerly enquired. “We forty-one Homunculi maids are the combined creations of Coup De Grâce-sama, Herohero-sama and Whitebrim-sama.”

“Whitebrim... now that you mention it, I can see his style,” was the reply. “He really paid a lot of detail to you, Lumière-san.”

Lumière blushed at the faint praise. “Please call me Lumière. I am unworthy of your praise, Sycorax-sama.”

Sycorax studied her. “There are bathing accessories here as well. Was it wrong to use them?”

“N- Not at all!” Lumière bowed, before picking up a vial. “T- This is a scented soap, made with the Black Roses of Niflheimr. And... this is Orchid Vanilla from Alfheimr... we thought that you might want some more luxurious services. This great bathhouse provides numerous relaxation services for the Supreme Beings, and some of the Floor Guardians who come. A- Ainz-sama is very fond of some of them, though he seems to have changed his bathing assistant to the Sapphire Slime named Miyoshi recently...”

“A Sapphire Slime?” She looked confused, but the confusion quickly cleared from her face. “Oh... I see. Do you have Marinier Gris?”

“Yes!” Lumière looked relieved; Marinier Gris scented oil was found only in Nóatún in Vanaheimr, the enclosed space of Njord. Thankfully there was a vial of it. “How would you like me to wash your hair, Sycorax-sama?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“I- Is there something wrong with me?!” Lumière pleaded, her heart sinking.

“No, it’s because I’m part Gorgon.”

“O- Oh...” Lumière flushed at the thought, casting another cautious look at the mass of white that seemed a lot like hair, not a scaly knot of snakes. She studied it a bit more. “It’s... hair.”

Sycorax snapped her fingers. One lock limply jumped into her right hand, and she held it up. “Split ends. Still poisonous.”

At Lumière’s crestfallen expression, she considered the brass basin. “Pass me a long hair towel, please. What bathing salts are there?”

“Yes!” Lumière pulled one long hair towel to offer with both hands at the edge of the tub. Sycorax took it, and contrary to expectations began to wind it slanted around her head, tying it off to act like a makeshift eye-patch.

Lumière averted her gaze, pulling out more bath oils. “Lavender, eucalyptus, rose... I can get some more if you need, Sycorax-sama! And... would you like a body scrub, Sycorax-sama?”

The entirety of her white reptilian tail had been submerged in the hot soapy water. Now, it rose up, flicking and shaking at the mention of a scrub. “The lavender is fine. Where is Nereus?”

“Uh, the butlers should be settling Lord Nereus right now,” Lumière doubtfully answered. “Head Maid Pestonya has been ordered to provide anything you may require, Sycorax-sama, and that includes clothes. If you wish, I will go and prepare the necessary garments.”

Scooping up water in her left hand, Sycorax relaxed back into the sunken bath. “Garments? I brought some-”

She kept silent before one of the stone lions began to move. The acoustics of the bath were truly excellent, causing the ominous voice issuing from the Golem to echo:

“—To not know the etiquette means you have no right to enter the bath! Exterminate!”

Lumière jumped in fright. “I- Is it yours, Sycorax-sama?”

“No, I’ve heard that voice before... Luci★fer?” Sycorax shrugged. “Troublesome guy.”

Lumière squeaked as the stone lion crouched and sprang-

With the loud sound of impact, something crashed hard onto the wall. With a splash of water, Sycorax flicked her left hand, having punched the stone golem across the room. A fierce gale blew Lumière’s hair aside, knocking her glasses askew again. “Don’t cause trouble for people!”

Knocking resounded on the door. “Admiral! Are you alright, Sycorax-sama?!”

The door crashed open. Nereus rushed in – he was armed with a kris; but the rest of his clothes had been replaced with a flimsy towel, hurriedly knotted across his slim hips. His black hair hung bedraggled over his face. Clearly, he had heard the chaos and disregarded everything else in his haste to find the Fleet Admiral.

“It’s just a prank left over by a troublesome guy,” Sycorax dismissed, sinking back into the tub as one of the butlers poked their heads in. “Next time, scout out the target before charging in.”

“I see. Please excuse my sudden entry and continue with your bath.” Nereus quickly backed out, pulling the doors closed in front of him. They hung limply in the frames before crashing onto the tiled floors.

Sycorax rolled her eyebrows, hauling herself out of the water and grabbing the largest towel next to Lumière’s place. The Homunculus Maid herself was still staring at the door with awkwardly placed glasses. “Do you have perfumed oils?”

* * *

Her gown was clean, elegant, and the jewellery was minimal. The dog-headed maid was a bit of a shock, but Sycorax quickly ignored all of that in favour of the prepared menu at the Round Table. She was starving.

“For today’s lunch menu, we will be serving two _hors d’œuvres,_ woof. The first will be a dish of _poire de foie gras_ of Víðópnir. The second will be _canapés à l’Amiral_. The soup will be an Alfheimr-styled cream of barley. We have selected meat for the main course, which would be marbled steak made from Jotunheimr’s Frost Dragons. After that comes dessert, which would be Golden Apple and Immortal Peach cobbler, topped with the mead of Heiðrún and served with white wine. In addition, we have vanilla-flavoured ice cream coated in gold leaf. For the after-meal beverages, we have considered that coffee may not suit everyone's taste, so we also have tea. That is all. If any part of the menu requires amendment, please inform us and we will do so immediately... woof.”

“Ah, yes,” Sycorax immediately spoke up. “Nereus is a Kelpie, and thus cannot eat liver.”

“Admiral!” The aforementioned Kelpie protested. “To eat at the same table as you...!”

“Adjusting to the dietary needs of their guests is also a mark of the kitchen’s skill,” Sycorax replied. “Isn’t that so? Head Maid Pestonya, What’s the vintage served with dessert again?”

“Ah, the Pineau des Charentes. If Sycorax-sama prefers, we can pull out the Dionysus Savennières.” Pestonya thought. “We will replace the _foie gras_ with a chicken _bruschetta_. Will that be fine, Nereus-sama?”

“I... thanks?”

“It is Ainz-sama’s order that our guests receive the greatest of our care.” It was, to be exact, the first time Nazarick had had to entertain guests without torture, pain or threats. Albedo had quickly divined Ainz’s meaning, hence she had made herself scarce and waited until the barbaric pirates – in her view – became completely soused.

“Excellent, I’d love to try that vintage,” Sycorax smiled. “That will be all, Pestonya.”

Momonga walked in somewhere around the dessert course.

“You know, this is delicious even if it doesn’t have a beneficial effect,” Sycorax daintily licked her dessert spoon, before taking a sip from a crystal glass. Next to her, Nereus was quiet, having already completed dessert and skipped to black coffee.

“How do you pack it all?” Momonga bluntly asked, watching the simple dessert of sweet poached apple slices in honey disappear down her gullet and continue.

“Ladies need their secrets.” Dessert done, Sycorax set aside the bowl, which was immediately disappeared by Lumière and replaced with a handled teacup, graced with a saucer and a silver teaspoon. Sycorax stirred the clear dark liquid within and sniffed it carefully. “Dare I ask why you’re serving Platinum++ grade Asgard Pekoe to a pirate?”

“It’s just a bit,” Momonga sank into the chair next to Sycorax’s – his chair as the Guildmaster, placed at the head of the room. “You appreciate it more than me, since I’m now like this. And let’s just call this an attempt of positive reinforcement, since I have to bribe you about the Eight Fingers.”

Sycorax yawned politely, shuddering as she took a sip. “Ever see _Pirates of the Caribbean_? Or _Black Sails_?”

“Umu... no.”

“There’s an undead pirate’s soliloquy that fits your situation. ‘For too long, I've been parched of thirst and unable to quench it’,” she quoted. “‘Too long I've been starving to death and haven't died. I feel nothing. Not the wind on my face, nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman's flesh...’ I would have gone crazy in your shoes.”

Momonga’s shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. With a wave of his hand, the servants of Nazarick departed, leaving both representatives of the Fomorians alone with the overlord and a squad of Eight-Edge Spider-blade Assassins.

“Very well. Do you want to start?”

Reaching into her item box, Sycorax pulled out Kiribachi and placed it carefully on the Round Table. “Let’s review what happened. At exactly midnight, Fleet standard time- that’s the normal clock that we started with, for your information – the two of us found ourselves in this mysterious world, tentatively called the New World.”

A scroll thudded next to Kiribachi, unrolling to reveal a cartographic draft of one side of the Azerlisia Mountains, dominated with the North Sea at the very top of the map, inscribed with a legend attached. The side that indicated the Baharuth Empire was dotted with eight-pointed compass roses.

“This is the tentative master draft of the map,” Sycorax continued, pulling a pen from within her hat and making a cross at a spot near the Forest of Tob. “This is Pantaleone, my base. Here is Nazarick. We sort of ended up on the same approximate meridian, which I’m inscribing as the prime meridian at the moment.”

Her hand moved to Kiribachi. “During my early explorations, I found this artefact which I had sold to Nurarihyon before our friendship and his joining of the guild. This sword led me to believe that my guild-mates must be somewhere in this world, and if mine are here, there is a chance that Ainz Ooal Gown’s people are all here as well. Therefore, there are seventy-eight people, us included, to find and gather across this unknown world, assuming that we were randomly scattered through space alone. And let’s not forget, if whatever dumped us here could choose the destination, what’s to say they cannot change the time of arrival as well, since time may be understood as another dimension?”

Another sheet of paper joined the scroll. “This information includes a measure of relative gravity, magnetic north and celestial north, approximate dimensions of the earth, shift in the stars...” A file was stacked on top. “This is a file on the locations visited in the Baharuth Empire, including the contacts and merchant acquaintances I made on the way upstream.” A scroll, charred with the magic of「Camera Obscura」, floated on top. “And this is the Worker team that I paid to help us burgle the Arwintar Grand Library, Foresight. I’ll make a copy for you –「Ephemera」.”

The stack duplicated itself in a flash of light, and it was the second folder which Sycorax slid across the table. Momonga picked it up to flip through all the information.

“Thank you, Sycorax-san. You’ve collected way more information about the Empire than I could. Why did you tell me about this Worker team, anyway? Did you eliminate them?”

“No. I left them alive.” Sycorax crossed her arms. “This Worker team, Foresight, is a... an experiment of my abilities.”

“Oh?”

“As you might know, I have the Othinus class,” Sycorax admitted. “This class grants me a number of skills and abilities, much like your Eclipse class. However, in my case I am the Norse god, Odin. I can do anything that Odin can.”

“E- EH?!” Momonga exclaimed. “Odin is the top god of Norse mythology!”

“Therefore, I not only possess「Einherjar」, I also have the ability 「Ride of the Valkyria」. In short, I have the potential ability to recognise and grant the Valkyrie job classes to any female Adventurer I meet,” explained the other.

Momonga swallowed.「Einherjar」was the trump card of the bloody Valkyrie of Nazarick, Shalltear Bloodfallen. A Construct-type avatar with the same physical stats and boosts as the maker with high Holy-type Attribute would be trouble for him, not to mention an army. Not to mention the Valkyrie class itself, only available to females and capable of granting them immense abilities beyond other jobs. “You’re trying to figure out... if you can change these girls into Valkyries, and these men into Einherjar?”

“In a sense,” Sycorax shrugged. “A host of Einherjar and Valkyries would make it much easier to find them. When you think about it, this is Odin’s most recognisable ability – to welcome warriors into Valhalla, and assemble them for Ragnarok. This is the purpose for which he lied, cheated, stole, killed and raped for, and in the end he died when Fenrir ate him. He could not escape that destiny, and now... now...”

She closed the lone eye she possessed, biting her bottom lip.

“I understand. Nazarick will not touch them in the course of our missions,” Momonga promised. “Now, what do we do?”

“Now we must find our friends, before...” Sycorax shuddered. “As an Undead... you sometimes feel hatred for life, right? It’s like that. Before these instincts erode, and we can no longer cling to each other as we drown in the fathomless depths of our instincts, we must find them.”


	23. XXII: Ballast

The swan feather bounced from the lock of golden hair it was tied to, around Arche’s ear. While it was a strange present, it was also a reminder of what Arche had done with the crazy pirate woman.

“Onee-sama, we’re done!”

The smell of fresh parchment hung about her room. They were in a new house, technically smaller and less luxurious than the Furt mansion; but the farther they were from debt collectors the better.

Arche smiled as she knelt down to meet her younger sister’s level. “Urei, where is Kuude and James?”

“They’re in the kitchen!” Ureirika leant close to Arche, as if imparting a secret. “She’s learning how to cook. We’re going to help Onee-sama and James!”

Although the twin sisters, Ureirika and Kuuderika, did not know what Arche did, they understood that it was something important. That was why they never voiced any selfish wishes to Arche. They would continue not to do so, especially since Arche had taken them away from the arrogant and cold wastrels of their parents – and Ureirika’s hands clenched at the thought of her elder sister’s hard hands.

The two of them loved Arche very much. To them, she was an extremely gentle, knowledgeable, and warm-hearted elder.

“Onee-sama, why are you wearing that feather?”

“I...” Arche touched the feather hanging on her hair, and blushed. “My friends and I managed to do a job. The payment was enough to settle all our debts, but at the end, we still received gifts. This is a reminder of her...”

_For a swan maiden, wearing swan feathers is the obvious choice, isn’t it?_

And, there was something odd about the feather. It shown with its own inner light, and its barbs never fell nor did it rot. Always fluffy and beautiful, the perfect feather in her cap and in her hair.

Arche passed by a silvered mirror that was one of the only things she brought from the old house. For a moment, as she looked at herself, carrying her iron staff, she thought she had seen something... changed.

“She is unforgettable,” Arche finally decided.

Like a hurricane, Sycorax had blown through her life, and even when the white-haired witch was gone, she still occupied Arche’s wildest imaginations.

* * *

“What the hell is she thinking now?!” In the dead of night, Momonga was busy fretting alone in his study about Sycorax’s latest bombshell.

The Valkyrie. Considered to be a job class with specialised combat ability, it was only open to females – following the Norse legends that celestial maidens or female warriors carried the souls of the slain to Valhalla.

The in-game lore read like this: ‘ _There are many theories about what a Valkyrie is and how to become one, as such, there are many sects that believe that they were not originally angels, spirits or anything else “not originally human”. Instead they may be just normal girls who wish to fight more than anything. Once Odin grants their wish and gives them power, they become Valkyries. Basically, courageous girls could become deified by heading down a special path._ ’

Shalltear Bloodfallen, Floor Guardian of the first three floors of Nazarick, had the Valkyrie: Lance job class, which elevated her as the strongest Floor Guardian in terms of single combat. Using that basis, Momonga was able to imagine the possible outcomes of allowing Sycorax to have her way.

“No!” Momonga paused. “Since she took the Othinus class, then she has the abilities of Odin. Let’s see... he holds the holy spear Gungnir, sits on the high throne Hliðskjálf, invented the runes... and is the chief god of Norse mythology, can only be killed by Fenrir at Ragnarok. With his recognition, men and women alike ascend to Valhalla as an army to fight Ragnarok.”

He cocked his head, writing in his journal the possible questions to be addressed. “We really need to figure out the extent and drawbacks. I’ve never met anyone else with the Othinus job... I need to figure out what she already knows.”

He stood up, walking towards the door. Halfway there, he froze. “Wait... what if Michiru-san is already asleep? As a man, I can’t just barge into a woman’s room, right? And we’re talking about the one who role-plays as a crazy pirate. What if she activates pervert revenge mode? I don’t wanna play the Jiraiya to her Tsunade- wait, what am I saying?! I can’t even do anything, and this is an emergency!”

So convincing himself, he walked out of his personal suite... only to accidentally walk into one of the bipedal Insect-type monsters assigned by Cocytus as sentries.

“Ainz-sama. One of the Homunculus maids stopped by to notify you that Sycorax-sama is in the bar.”

“The _bar_?!”

The ninth floor had many rooms of various types. These included the members’ and NPCs’ rooms, obviously; but they also included the great bathhouse, cafeterias, beauty salons, clothing stores, grocery stores, fitness salons, nail salons, and numerous other facilities in a bid of wish fulfilment. The creation of these rooms had no actual significance for game play.

Within these rooms, there was a small bar, whose manager was the Great Tomb of Nazarick’s Sous-chef. Although Sous-chef would normally be in the cafeteria, according to certain days of the week and time of the day, he would come to a room and make preparations for those that might stop by.

Instead of teleporting, Momonga chose to physically walk there and enter like any other occupant into the bar.

The room had the concept of a bar with few regular customers and was illuminated with soft gentle light. There was a shelf lined with multicoloured bottles of alcohol behind the counter, and eight bar stools. After Momonga had exhibited a preference for the Jukebox, there was now a mini-stage outfitted with a grand piano of lacquered ebony. The band of white scaly flesh contrasted with the elegant black silk dress that fell to mid-thigh. The white hair, and the green eye that glittered next to a black leather eye-patch, made a great contrast to the little black cocktail dress, the shining multi-tiered black pearl choker around her neck, and the straight black stick holding up part of her hair into a loose chignon.

Sycorax clearly did not have the Bardic job classes; there was no magic involved in tickling the ivories. The music she played was slow in tempo, making it easy to pick out the individual notes as she sang. Yet the song rung with the echo of long practice and the charm of someone enjoying the music for its own sake.

   
_Erinnerst du dich noch? Erinnerst du dich noch?_  
 _An dein Wort, das du mir gegeben hast?_  
 _Erinnerst du dich noch? Erinnerst du dich noch?_  
 _An den Tag, an dem du mir...?_

_Die Ruinenstadt ist immer noch schön,_  
 _Ich warte lange Zeit auf deine Rückkehr..._  
 _In der Hand, ein Vergissmeinnicht_.  
 

A deep breath echoed, and she continued to sing:

   
_Regentropfen sind meine Tränen,_  
 _Wind ist mein Atem und mein Erzählung._  
 _Zweige und Blätter sind meine Hände,_  
 _Denn mein Körper ist in Wurzeln gehüllt._  
 _Wenn die Jahreszeit des Tauens kommt,_  
 _werde ich wach und singe ein Lied._  
 _Das Vergissmeinnicht, das du mir gegeben hast,_  
 _ist hier…_  
 

“Ainz-sama!” The Myconid behind the counter exclaimed, prompting a flurry of shushes from the man in question.

“Mix up a rum cocktail for our singer this evening,” Momonga instructed. “I’ll... just be here.”

“O- Of course,” the Sous-chef nodded, quickly mixing up the drink as Momonga slid into the bar stool next to the room’s third occupant.

“You’re Nereus, right?”

The other remained seated. “Yes, Momonga-sama.”

“I’ve changed my name to Ainz Ooal Gown.”

“My apologies, Ainz-sama.”

“You’re rather direct.”

“Pirates are known not to obey any authority.”

“Well, that’s not an attitude I dislike.” Momonga waved towards the bar. “You’re not getting any drinks? My Nazarick has extended all hospitality to you.”

“My apologies. However, someone needs to remain sober for the Admiral.” Nereus smiled. “Just now, a Lady Albedo ordered an all-natural scumble for the Admiral, outfitted with herbs like belladonna and all-natural ingredients like arsenic.”

“Uhm, Mi- I mean, Sycorax-san...”

“Admiral Sycorax’s 「Poison Heal」is not as weak as to be overwhelmed just by arsenic,” Nereus continued smiling as he elaborated Albedo’s recent poisoning attempt. “She is immune to any and all poisons, and she even benefits from them. Still, I would appreciate that she does not eat anything placed in front of her, and thus I am monitoring her drinks. You don’t seem to face that problem yourself, _Ainz_ -sama.”

Momonga was spared from answering as the music stopped, and a thump echoed Sycorax’s movement from the stage and sliding towards the bar. Sous-chef was already prepared, serving up a piña colada with pineapple garnish.

“Oh, when did you come, Momonga-san?” Sycorax licked the edge of the Poco Grande glass, chewing on the pineapple.

“Just now. I didn’t know that you could play the piano.”

“The _Queen of the Night_ has an organ,” Sycorax confided. “I only know how to play a little bit. It’s a minor skill that I couldn’t put down, despite having never played for a while. Nereus, you’re not drinking?”

“I can’t get used to the silence, Admiral.”

“Silence?” Momonga echoed.

“Silence?” Sycorax repeated. “Laughter and music, dice and cards, the sound of the breeze and the waves, the creak of the rigging... it’s definitely not silent ship-side. It’s not something a landlubber would understand so quickly.”

“Ah...” Momonga deflated, trying to figure out how to broach his main concerns. He chose to talk about something else: “...about your requests, why did you request an estate to build a... stone frigate?”

“I was thinking of a way to resolve your money problems, Momonga-san,” Sycorax replied. “Of course, the two of us have vast reserves of gold from YGGDRASIL behind us, but none of the local currency. We cannot simply spend all of that cash – therefore, we need to earn money, money enough to infiltrate the kingdoms in this feudal land. We need the currency from here.”

“Putting that aside...” Momonga pointed a shaking finger at Sycorax’s neck. “Aren’t those the Greater Black Pearls of Hell?”

“Are they? Nurarihyon got them for me.” Sycorax touched her pearl choker carefully. “It’s named Black Beauty, though...”

“May I...?”

One white eyebrow rose. “What?”

“Examine it.”

“I’m not taking it off,” Sycorax warned.

“Fair enough.「All Appraisal Magic Item」!” Momonga made no outward reaction as the spell activated. “It’s threaded with the Greater Black Pearls of Hell and Pearls of the Gates of Heaven, using Gleipnir, the Fetters of Fenrir, and carved with repeating runes,” he concluded.

“A Black Beauty indeed,” was Sycorax’s rejoinder.

“That’s an emergency arsenal masquerading as prayer beads,” Momonga rebutted.

“It’s pretty,” Sycorax finished her piña colada and eyed Momonga. “Did you want a song? Or to unwind? Or... is it something to do with the one whose settings-”

“Just drink.”

Sycorax turned to Sous-chef. “Do you know what’s a Salty Dog?”

“Yes, Sycorax-sama. Would your... companion want some?”

“Not drinking,” Nereus shook his head. “Coffee would do.”

“Very well then.”

As Sous-chef bustled around, Sycorax turned back to Momonga. “Your maids think I’m marrying you. Explain.”

Glass shattered behind them.

“「Create Greater Item」.” Momonga immediately cast a spell to make ten more glasses out of mid-air.

“My apologies, Ainz-sama-”

“ _Go_.”

The Myconid slunk away. Momonga did not respond for a long while, before he just put his skeletal face into his hands.

“I haven’t got much information, but it seems like there’s something,” Sycorax hummed.

“They want an heir,” Momonga sighed. “At this stage, it looks like a toss-up between Albedo and Shalltear. Ah, you haven’t seen them... anyway, I’m-” a wave at his body. “There’s nothing that can make me anything _else_.”

“Not normal magic, definitely,” Sycorax analysed. “The thing is, most kings need an heir only because of that pesky thing called mortality, which means that they need to prepare for the future after they’re gone to bring the kingdom’s power and glory to new heights. Your race pretty much means that you’re practically immortal, and you have no need to prepare for a future after you’re gone, and you’re more or less at the height of your power. It’s the opposite problem.”

“That doesn’t solve the other problem,” Momonga lamented quietly. “Like... that undead pirate. He totally hit the nail on the head. Don’t you face that problem? Having no...”

Sycorax blinked as Momonga waved about. “Huh...?”

Reduced to incoherent blubbering and surrounded by the aura of his emotion suppression, Momonga made a circle with his left thumb and index finger, and jabbed a finger through.

“That’s vulgar, but I get the point.” Her sole visible eyelid lowered, giving her a seductive air, partly ruined by her eye-patch. “My tail is a bit lower.”

Both hands slammed over the face the moment another high-ball glass with Sycorax’s order arrived.

“Please wait a moment, the coffee’s percolating,” Sous-chef ran off as Nereus’ shoulders shook.

“It’s embarrassing, but you don’t need to do _that_ ,” Sycorax admonished, taking a sip and licking part of the salt off the rim. “Shalltear Bloodfallen I’ve seen the image captures of, so I’m assuming she’s... not your type.”

“I don’t want to say it.”

“You have to. I’m not going to act as your beard, and neither are we marrying, since I was already married,” Sycorax reminded him.

“Dammit!” Momonga complained. “Punitto Moe-san’s grandfather, right? What happened?”

Sycorax looked down. “He died.”

“Sorry for bringing up such a thing!”

“Doesn’t matter. Useless bastard gambled way too much and hustled the wrong people. If he wasn’t dropped into Tokyo Bay, it would have been the Thames or Ou Mun or Kowloon Bay.”

“So... Punitto Moe-san being a hard gamer...”

“Ryo was always good at games, but I told him that he’ll die if he followed his useless grandfather. So he turned elsewhere.”

“Oh...” Momonga’s head nodded. “I see.”

“If he’s here...” Sycorax’s face changed. “Then we must find him. He’s still my grandson.”

She swallowed the entire glass in one gulp, bitterly gasping. “Kiribachi proved... there’s a chance that he’s here. That all our friends are here, alone and unprotected, while all our creations are with us. What if... what if...?!”

Momonga watched as the drunk pirate began to cry into her glass, his emotion suppressors working on overdrive. They were fellow Guildmasters, with the same responsibilities to find their comrades, yet this mission was clearly personal for her, Kaiō Michiru, whose grandson and his guild-mate was lost, somewhere in this strange new world.

There was no need to suppress his emotion. Rather, it was that all of his emotion at that moment had hardened into something that survived under the suppression of his emotions – some feeling that was universal to all, even the Undead felt it-

_You who are lost in this world... I will find you again, I promise._

* * *

_**The lyrics come from βιος-δ <feat. Mika Kobayashi>, composed by Sawano Hiroyuki. Here's my inspiration:** _

_**<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLSJBEB8q7o> ** _


	24. XXIII: Bear Down

“ _The party is over! Let’s give a cheer for our colleagues, Librobum Prohibitorum and Icarus, and wish them a great wedding night!”_

_Catcalls and cheers punctuated the night, and each and every member of the guild lit up to show that they were logging out. The men of the hour, though, remain together, hand in hand in unofficial matrimony as they exchanged long looks. Their expressions did not change – could not change, given the limited facial set available in YGGDRASIL – but the emotions were present._

“ _Will we meet again?” the storm sylph asked._

“ _We will meet again,” the Birdman promised as both of them glowed as well, logging out of the game. “I promise, we will meet again-”_

_Sycorax sighed, nursing a plain-tasting Mead. Food in YGGDRASIL tasted bland, precisely to inhibit players from staying too long and forgetting to eat, drink and refresh themselves according to the law regarding DMMO-RPG equipment. So absorbed was she, that she ignored the arm draping itself across her shoulders. “We should’ve done this earlier... could have invited Flatfooot-san. So, what are you doing, Nurarihyon?”_

“ _Friends can’t just hang out?” Nurarihyon teased back. “I prefer spending time with mature women, especially awesome girls like you. Want some more?”_

“ _No. Real-life alcohol tastes better,” Sycorax sighed, staring up at the skeletons of the masts, as the Fomori Fleet’s ships painted a silhouette on the surface of Mimisbrunnr. “Such sights are hard to see nowadays. I... I wonder if we could’ve explored some more, given enough time.”_

_She then turned to smile at Nurarihyon. “...thank you for staying all this time.”_

“ _No,” replied the red-eyed Y ōkai. “Thank you for leading us into so many unforgettable, crazy situations. Today was... if YGGDRASIL wasn’t about to close, those two idiots would probably never have gotten together. They got their happy ending. But... what about us?”_

“ _Us?” Her lips parted in surprise._

“ _I’ll definitely come to Yokosuka to find you, Sycorax-san!”_

* * *

“...up, Sycorax-sama!”

Michiru stirred, hearing a muffled voice slip in through the silky, warm covers of his bed. As if waking up from a long dream, her mind was muddled and hazy. Who dares to call a retired sailor so early, and by her MMO pseudonym to boot? Most of her colleagues were dead, senile or occupied, and not even Ryo knew that she played-

“Huu... She said to wake her at dawn, but she's not moving at all...”

“W- What should we do? Shouldn't we leave her alone?”

Strange. The only people here should be Ryo and her. When did home invaders become so polite? They would be less polite once she got her hands on them...

“D- Don't worry, Decrement! If I remember correctly, the Supreme Beings spoke of such situations. It seems that after sleeping, there is a curse that prevents them from regaining their motor skills for a while. Fortunately, it seems there's a way to dispel it, but... Fetching a bucket of cold water might take too long...”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m up, I’m up...” Groaning, she hauled herself out from under the bedclothes, noting the smooth texture and fine colour brushing against her hands and scales...

Scales... she reached down.

Still no legs.

“Sycorax-sama!” Lumière exclaimed, as one of the four maids standing at attention by the bedside with a room-service cart. “Good morning...”

“Nereus, put away the knives,” Sycorax yawned. “They have food.”

Behind the four maids, two knives whispered as they rubbed against their scabbards.

“You,” Sycorax pointed at Lumière, “explain how the number of maids increased.”

“Yes, Sycorax-sama,” Lumière bobbed a curtsy. “Ainz-sama worried for Sycorax-sama’s care within the Great Tomb. In his infinite grace, he has had Head Maid Pestonya assign more of the Homunculi Maids in the direct service of the Supreme Beings to a permanent team attending to your every need during your stay. I am the head of this team, Lumière. This is Increment, Decrement, and Foire. We look forward to serving you.”

“Uhm...” Sycorax blinked, all sleepiness gone with the fact that somehow, her friend the unexceptional salaryman had actually assigned a four-maid complement of staff to give her the royal treatment. “I- I appreciate it... but it’s really not needed...”

Looking closer, she noted each maid’s unique design and clothes, even if they seemed to share a similar facial structure. _The people at Ainz Ooal Gown really have_ _money to splurge on such fripperies_ _as custom maids...!_ _I don’t even get such luxury!_ _They must have_ _had_ _a few graphic artists playing around with the YGGDRASIL_ _Askr-Embla NPC design_ _interface_ _..._

While she was complaining in her mind, the four maids had grown gradually pale.

“I- Is there something wrong with our service, Sycorax-sama?!” Decrement whispered.

Forget it, Sycorax decided. There were multiple Homunculi maids, so she would talk with the housekeeper later. “Fine. Is your master free?”

The four exchanged looks that were hardly discreet. “W- Would you mean the Head Butler, Sebas-sama?”

“I’ve never met him. I mean Momon- Ainz,” Sycorax gritted her teeth.

“Ah, Ainz-sama is away on... other matters... for the morning,” Lumière shook her head, hopefully in a graceful manner befitting of Nazarick and the Supreme Beings. “He requests that Sycorax-sama takes this chance to explore the Grand Library of Ashurbanipal this morning with Chief Librarian Titus Annaeus Secundus.”

“Hmm, Momonga-san knows what I like,” Sycorax brightened at the mention of books. Nobody could have spent three decades of their lives working in a library without some serious bibliophilia, especially faced with the 22nd century’s comparative lack of physical codices. “I’ll do that then.”

She got up from the bed, stretching her arms. “I’ll freshen up first.”

“Your bath has been drawn in the adjoining bathroom, Sycorax-sama,” Lumière bowed her head before turning to frown at Nereus. “I notice, though, that a team of butlers should have been put to Nereus-sama...”

“I’ve been in this suite all night,” Nereus replied. “Ainz-sama knows that, as the Admiral’s bodyguard, I cannot leave her side unless ordered to in extreme circumstances, no matter how safe the location is.”

“Fine,” Sycorax groaned. “Nereus, I... I order you to watch them lay out breakfast in the adjoining room during my bath. And wash your face.”

The Thief looked briefly puzzled before comprehension dawned. “Aye, Admiral!”

Sycorax left in a huff, Lumière trailing behind her as they entered the bathroom of the suite Sycorax had been put in. The bathroom was comparatively smaller than the bath of Spa Resort Nazarick, which meant that it only sunk into the floor rather than take up an Olympic swimming pool, and was about the length and width of a king-size bed. A wooden screen afford Sycorax the privacy to strip – more accurately, to be stripped of her nightdress by Lumière – before she pulled a washbasin to quickly rinse herself prior to entering the bath.

“Would Sycorax-sama prefer the Pomme d’Oro today?” Lumière offered a vial of bathing oil to her.

Sycorax took it and sniffed. “Oranges... not bad.”

The citrusy scent hung about her when she was finally done. Towelling her hair vigorously, the white-haired filibuster tried to take her own clothes from the Item Box, if not for Lumière’s offer of a white terry-cloth robe and equally plush open-heel indoor slippers, all emblazoned with the Nazarick emblem.

“Lumière... this is... I can’t-”

“Ainz-sama has _personally_ crafted these items for Sycorax-sama’s comfort,” the maid sternly replied, with emphasis of her master’s opinion. “I must report to Ainz-sama.”

Sycorax rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Forget a hotel, this is practically royalty... did he really order all of... _this_?”

“To be exact, this is a spare room, specially cleaned and designated for your use.”

The hand let go. “If this is a spare, I wonder what the other rooms must look like.”

“The suites of the Supreme Beings are largely uniform in structure, each bearing a designated master bedroom, study, changing room, and bathroom.”

Sycorax nodded as she received a hair towel to start drying her hair, pulling a toothbrush from her Item Box. “Thank you, Lumière. That was informative. Now, breakfast. The menu?”

“Keeping in mind Momonga-sama’s order, today’s breakfast is white Inari rice, miso soup with burdock root and carrot, cold tofu, and grilled _teriyaki_ Salmon of Knowledge. They have been served with the  Famille Noire tableware, with exclusive chopsticks of Ironwood lacquered yew designated for Sycorax-sama’s use. The meal is accompanied with Sycorax-sama’s choice of Vanaheimr Genmaicha or coffee.” Lumière rattled off, averting her eyes from Sycorax’s brushing.

Sycorax went to the sink and gargled, before speaking, “Is he living vicariously through me or something?”

“I would not know,” Lumière chose her worlds carefully. “Up till now, Ainz-sama has never paid so much attention to anyone of us.”

Sycorax nodded. She didn’t know, but two of the Floor Guardians had heard through the grapevine that, whoever Sycorax was, she had landed the empty suite closest to Ainz-sama’s suite – gasp! – and had been allocated four maids for her care – Albedo-sama fainted! – while her menu was organised by _Ainz-sama himself_. That was the stage where Shalltear-sama had tottered over, her Undead race unable to defend from the onslaught of being knocked out of the running for the status of legal wife.

 _This is the person I’m serving_ , Lumière giddily thought to herself. _The only equal of the Supreme Being, the one closest to being the Mistress of this place..._

The Head Maid would have been assigned to care for the other being with equal status to their creators, but the great Supreme Being had mandated that the Homunculi Maids learn to serve others using Sycorax as practice. The Supreme Beings themselves would be biased towards their own creations, was his reasonable explanation to Lumière – therefore Sycorax’s presence by itself was impartial, and could judge the standards of Nazarick’s domestic staff.

Lumière had been too amazed to even consider questioning their supreme ruler.

The meal had been laid down with two places: two separate bowls of rice and soup, chopsticks with their own holders, two dishes each to hold one hot and one cold dish. Two fillets of sticky-golden salmon, burnished pink, was laid out on each dish. Nereus stood at the place on the left of the table’s head.

“Seriously, Nereus?” Sycorax arched her brows at him. “You’re observing manners? We’re pirates.”

“This is not the sea, Admiral,” Nereus gave a gentle reminder. “It is a courtesy to our hosts.”

“Noted,” Sycorax sat down, frowning as her seat was adjusted just before she managed to seat herself, now at the perfect level. She put her hands together, muttering an ‘ _itadakimasu_ ’ to bow to the food in respect. Then, she took up the chopsticks and started, ignoring all looks shot at her direction.

Lumière delicately served tea in a Japanese-style _yunomi_ teacup, shaped and glazed green with silver veins running through it. Her pointed silence drew attention from the pirate admiral, who steadily ate part of the tofu and salmon before the tips of her ebony tapped on the chopstick rest. She took a sip of tea to freshen her palate. “Lumière. You have questions.”

“Ah... please forgive my forwardness. Is Sycorax-sama’s custom from the Supreme Beings as well?”

“Hmm? Yes, I suppose,” Sycorax absently commented. “Though I don’t think they follow it anymore. It is an old custom.”

“Oh...” Lumière nodded. Around them, all the maids nodded, filing away this knowledge of the lives of their absent masters and mistresses.

“This is delicious,” Sycorax commented. “Easy on the stomach, light on the tongue. How refreshing. I would like a pot of it sent to the Grand Library later.”

“Ah?” Lumière blinked in disbelief. “Yes, Sycorax-sama...”

“And... do I have to stay in this all day?” Sycorax motioned to the terry-cloth shrouding her body.

“The slippers should be fine...”

“I don’t have feet!”

* * *

The Grand Library in Nazarick’s tenth floor, Ashurbanipal.

The entrance hall was decorated simply, with plain black as a base colour, while dim, reddish light illuminated the area. The ceiling formed a gently sloping dome, with a grand set of double doors on the opposite side. Golems were standing on either side of the doors that led to the Library. They were almost three meters tall, nearly as large as the doors themselves. The golems were shaped like armoured warriors, and because they were made from rare metals, they were stronger than regular golems.

Sycorax slid before the doors, Lumière following her like a shadow. Lumière’s carriage seemed now like a princess, great and dignified. “By decree of the last Supreme Being Ainz-sama, Sycorax-sama has the permissions and powers of the Supreme Beings. Open the door!”

“That is wrong, Lumière,” Sycorax stated, before raising her voice, “Excuse me, could you please open the door?”

In response to the request, the two golems put their hands on the door and slowly pushed it open. After a heavy, creaking sound, the pair walked in through open doors big enough for several people to enter at once.

The sight that lay on the other side was more reminiscent of an art museum than a library, divided into multiple levels with banisters and stairs running the length, width, and height of the library proper. Countless decorations added flair, while the bookshelves and even the books themselves looked like ornaments on display. Not a single speck of dust could be seen on the immaculately polished hardwood floors and the surface was covered in beautiful engraved patterns. The upper area was quite roomy, with a hall-like design, and a balcony extended from the second floor. Even on the second floor there were countless bookshelves, arranged as if they were peeking into the room. The hemisphere ceiling was covered in grand frescos and luxurious carvings.

Books filled the numerous glass bookshelves across the room. There were many sources of light in the room, none of them too glaring. As a matter of fact, a regular human would frown, claiming it was too dark. It was impossible to take in the whole interior at one glance, because the bookshelves covered the scenery at every angle.

Amidst the tectonic silence befitting a library, the doors slowly closed behind. It turned dark, since there was no light coming in from the entrance. The stillness in the air panned out, silence settling like the heartbeat of knowledge.

“「Dark Vision」.”

Of course, for those with night vision like Sycorax, it was not creepy at all.

Then a ghastly shadow suddenly appeared from beyond the bookcases. It wore a black hooded robe that seemed to blend into the library itself. On its belt was a jewel-embedded wand, with various straps interwoven with crystals. It had a pale face that looked as if it had been embalmed. Every time it moved, darkness swirled around it ever so subtly. What differentiated it from others, was the fact it wore an armband on its left arm. The words “Librarian J” were written on it.

“I’ve heard of undead librarians, but using a ‘white palter of false wealth’ is interesting,” Sycorax commented. At only Level 30 it seemed tiny.

“Welcome, Sycorax-sama, to Ashurbanipal,” the Elder Lich bowed while speaking in a cracked voice that was barely audible, placing one hand on its chest.

“We have come to call upon the Chief Librarian.”

Librarian J looked as if it was thinking for a second before replying: “The Chief Librarian started crafting scrolls not too long ago, so he should be in the Crafting Room.”

“Thank you.”

“I shall guide you to him. Right this way.”

“There is no need to interrupt his crafting,” Sycorax dismissed. “I will amuse myself until he is prepared to receive the guests he is expecting. Please tell me, what is the layout of this library?”

The Elder Lich made a frightening smile. “The Library Hall itself, for the most part, is divided into three large rooms: the Room of Wisdom, the Room of Logic, and the Room of Magic. There are several smaller rooms designed for specialised uses, along with individual rooms for the staff. We are currently standing in the Room of Logic.”

Sycorax nodded, recalling the five categories of books in YGGDRASIL. “I see. It is much like the Lyceum of our Fleet. May I trouble you to show me around?”

“It is no trouble. We are here to facilitate visitors, after all.”

Sycorax blinked each time they passed by other Undead and Spirit staff, all the while following the guide. Behind them loomed a shadow...

“I wonder how ventilation works,” Sycorax commented aloud. “I could grill a _horse_ to find out.”

Nereus’ presence subsided.

“Putting that aside, however,” Sycorax continued, “it does not seem like all the books are... shall we say, utilised.”

“Of course not,” Librarian J replied. “The majority of the countless books is used to summon monsters as mercenaries. Of course, there was no need to actually hoard so many copies of them, but we disguise the jewels of our collection amongst the many multiple copies.”

Lumière’s breathing came out deep and even. “Erm... Sycorax-sama...? Do you know why the library is so quiet?”

Sycorax inhaled deeply as they walked through the Room of Logic, past several smaller rooms, through the Room of Wisdom, and now the Room of Magic. “L-Space, short for library space, is the extension of the maxim ‘ _scientia postestas est_ ’. It works down to the equation that books equals knowledge equals power, which is then defined as the halving of the total of force multiplied by distance squared.”

“...please forget that your servant asked anything.”

“The weight of accumulated knowledge here has warped space and time,” Sycorax simplified. “Your notion of sound is dependent on space and time, hence the silence.”

“Oh...!”

“Well, we’re back where we started,” Sycorax remarked. “So, Librarian J, could you show us to a reading room? We’d love to sit with a cup of tea and a book. After all, your boss must not miss his duties.”


	25. XXIV: Backstays

In the middle of the room was a big drawing board. A roll of parchment lay atop it.

Before it stood a skeleton of... _something_ that looked like a hybrid between a human and an animal. It was not big – perhaps one-and-one-half metres tall. It had two horns resembling those of a devil coming out from its skull, its hands each ended in four fingers, and its feet were hoofed. This strange figure was robed in a saffron-coloured _himation,_ with another _himation_ wrapped around its horns like a hood, and a third shrouded its waist as well. Bracelets hung around it like a particularly macabre jewellery stand; a silver bracelet embedded with seven different-coloured gems, a necklace with a golden ankh, various rings that looked like twisted fingers, and gems hung around his belt – all magical items with considerable mana stored inside them. Despite being festooned with considerably more baubles than the Elder Liches, this was a Skeleton Mage – a step below the Elder Liches in the Undead hierarchy.

Yet, this was the Chief Librarian of Ashurbanipal, Titus Annaeus Secundus. It was an NPC created by a Supreme Being for crafting rather than combat. Its overall levels were also higher than the Elder Lich from before – which was why it commanded respect from Librarian J as the Elder Lich entered the room.

“Chief Librarian, I would have attention from you.”

The Chief Librarian put down his bony hands on the drawing board, having been about to cast magics as a test. “I am listening.”

“Sycorax-sama awaits your presence in the Green Room.”

“...!”

An Undead did not feel the same way as normal creatures. Yet, any sentient creature would be alarmed if told that their boss had been waiting for a long while. “Why hast thou neglected to summon me ‘til now? Even a 「Message」 would suffice!”

“My apologies, Chief Librarian. She asked to be shown around, and casting a 「Message」 before such an exalted personage is... unseemly.”

“I have been entrusted this mission by the Overlord Ainz-sama! This would-!”

Titus hurried out immediately, hurrying through the Grand Library of Ashurbanipal. Much of the staff turned as he passed them.

He entered a room that was not only tastefully decorated with tones of pastel green, much like the rooms of European aristocracy, but also boasting of more bookshelves of overbearing knowledge.

There, the woman that sat in the room’s main chair dominated with her presence.

Her head was bared indoors, leaving her long white hair to whip around her head, like a mass of snakes or several living albescent shadows. Her right eye shone in the dimness in her face – regular in feature and strong. Her left eye was covered by a silver eye-patch. She wore a knee-length dress of pearl-grey silk with lace hemming, under a black bolero jacket with a belt. Her torso disappeared into a six-metre length of serpentine coils under her.

She seemed like any other Nagini, but Titus could immediately identify that her hair was that of the Gorgons, and the pearlescent colour of her scales boasted of her power as queen of the serpents and serpent-folk – an immortal Nagarani.

By decree of Ainz Ooal Gown, the only other Supreme Being currently in residence.

Titus fell to his knees in a kowtow. “This lowly Skeleton Mage Titus Annaeus Secundus pays his respects to the Supreme Being of Lady Sycorax, and begs forgiveness for his lateness. ‘Twas I who, occupied with the creation of scrolls for the sake of the great Overlord, neglected the time of Milady’s appointment.”

“It is fine. Get up. I took the time to settle my correspondence,” Sycorax sighed, folding up a letter in her hand as she rose in greeting. “My heir has managed to get himself into legal trouble. Such is the life of a pirate – adventure in the face of law and custom. He will extricate himself, but his tale of weal and woe is entertaining while I waited.”

Her head tilted. “Was it fun, to craft scrolls?”

“To answer Milady, the creation of scrolls for the purposes of the Supreme Beings is my reason for existence.” Titus stood, straightening his robes. “I have been told that milady is interested in the workings of our Grand Library. Milady’s map of the Nine Worlds is a great treasure within our walls. To have left Milady waiting is a horrible shame which I must atone for-”

“Oh, they bought our maps,” Sycorax hummed. “The nature of Nazarick’s experiments is not unknown to me. Your subordinate took the time to show me around – which is very polite of him.”

“Yes, Milady.”

“I am curious to know about the experiments conducted so far,” Sycorax motioned to the side, where Titus noted one of the Homunculi Maids stationed with a tea set and snacks – a bowl of multicoloured jellies mixed with slices of fresh fruit. “Which is why I have prepared to stay here to listen. Unless, that information is restricted...?”

“Not at all. The Overlord Ainz-sama has indeed mandated to inform Milady of our ongoings,” Titus bowed. “It will indeed be a long while, and I will provide notes.”

“Excuse me.” Sycorax conjured a gathering of papers and a pen that stood itself upright as she laid it out on a small table. “Forgive my use of a Self-Writing Pen. Now, please, begin.”

“Such a great convenience,” the Chief Librarian marvelled. “Ah, I have tested the use of various parchments...”

* * *

Sycorax was alone in her suite, having sent off Lumière to get her lunch.

She glared down at one list of her gathering of notes. It was topped with ‘ten-year-old child’. “Nazarick uses humans in its experiments.”

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her nose after pronouncing that sentence, like it would make the truth easier for her humanised mind to stomach. Her first reaction was to demand answers, but her mind, educated and honed through long years on human battlefields and more in the halls of teaching war history, chose to prevail.

Even if she had chosen to play the dumb captain on an adventure, she was still a soldier.

“Livestock,” she hissed to herself, before raising her voice: “Nereus?”

“Aye, Admiral?”

“What is your impression of the word ‘livestock’?” She looked at the dark-haired man. In a different light, the horizontal pupils of his original aquatic ungulate form could not be hidden.

“Domesticated animals raised to produce food, fibre, and labour.”

“How do you define an animal?”

“A living thing.” When she shot him a look, he raised his hands. “Well, I eat... a lot of things.”

“I am aware, Nereus. Your diet is wide and varied.” Including humans, she wryly noted in her thoughts.

“How may I assist you in your troubles, Admiral?”

“No, I am... thinking.” Aloud, she continued, “about the nature of morality and the notion of ruling by the sword.”

Nereus considered her words. “This is a world where the strong prevail and the weak are eaten. Do you... disbelieve so, Admiral?”

“Natural selection states that ‘organisms possessing properties that are better suited for survival in the environment tend to pass on their genes more often than ones that are less fit for the environment’,” Sycorax recited. “It is not necessarily the strongest or most ruthless who are the _fittest_ , but it can be, and often are, those who can band together for mutual benefit. Rán's Net is your archetypal example – people of the sea cannot eke a living from plunder without the custom of landlubbers.”

Nereus accepted her words with a nod. “The problem isn’t that they’re crippling the young, but that we’re on a continent filled with three human-oriented powers who advocate for human supremacy.”

Sycorax noted that Nereus didn’t actually mention the torture.

Why would he, she reflected. YGGDRASIL was a world in which players and NPCs regularly fought it out in increasingly gory and terrible ways. The nature of anonymity was an experiment of the Ring of Gyges allegory – no incentive to behave if there was no cost to misbehaving.

This was a world where the conquest of monsters was highly possible, if not plausible...

“This is perfect for a salaryman,” Sycorax complained under her breath as she looked through more letters. “Bill, bill- better stop by E-Rantel, put in a public link to me-” she stopped, reading one letter from Ariel, and then rubbed her sole functioning eye.

“Nereus, come here and read this for me. My eye seems to be faulty.”

Quickly, to save her from her monocular disposition, Nereus duly read aloud: “‘To the Fleet Admiral. We hope that this letter finds you well. For the purposes of the maiden sortie in this world, we respectfully request permission of requisition for Rear-Admiral OTP is Canon’s equipments, specifically-’ ”

“Stop.”

When Nereus fell silent, Sycorax put her face in her hands. “Those things are _still_ around?!”

Nereus blinked. “Requisition of Divine-class equipment, especially those of the Admiralty’s personal vaults, would need special permissions not just from Nagato, but also from the Admiralty. Ariel did everything according to protocol.”

“Nereus, you’ve worn the horrors. You’ve seen Canon-chan wear the horrors.” Sycorax got her face out of her hands. “I cannot, in good conscience, let even- I mean, Momonga-san, near those horrors. His emotional suppression would not survive.”

Fangirls were all very well and good, Sycorax admitted to herself, but not when one of them were so over-insistent of the identity. The guild’s chief Artificer made excellent goods with Checky, Sycorax could admit, but Ainz Ooal Gown had rejected the player who skated professionally and called herself ‘OTP is Canon’ online for a reason.

“Love Wins alone would lose half its effectiveness without its set,” Nereus innocuously commented. Rather, Sycorax uncharitably thought that Nereus was advocating for someone to wear the Divine-class monstrosity that would fail most sanity checks.

“Fine,” Sycorax groaned, for lack of reason to object and actual necessity, signing off the requisition permissions for Love Wins and Victory to be sent via messenger crow later. “Right, new things...”


	26. XXV: Bull ensign

 

Around the same time that Sycorax was relaxing in Nazarick, King Lanposa the Third was about to make history. The idea had originated as a wild dream, when Gazef was delivering an update of his status report.

“Led by a woman, you say?”

In a world overwhelmingly ruled by the male, the concept of a female monarch could seem wild. Yet, reality and fantasy were divorced for a reason. After due consideration, King Lanposa the Third conceded that women could and did hold power – look at Blue Rose, for instance. One of the Kingdom’s two Adamantite Adventurer teams were composed entirely of women – and their leader was a high noble, at that.

Vaguely, the old man’s thoughts passed to his children, especially to one golden-haired princess who, in a just world, should have been born anywhere but in a royal household. The requirements and demands of the crown grew and weighted on even the strongest of minds – even Lanposa had to give up his children to it.

Out of his many sons and daughters, the one he worried for the most was, in the end, the one who should have had a different fate.

“Warrior-Captain... no, my knight. You have come in time.”

“Your Majesty?” Gazef paused.

“Speak.”

“Well, I... have a request.” Gazef swallowed. “You see... do you remember my report on Sir Caliban?”

“He is extremely talented.”

“His talents are many, varied and extreme, I concede. I refer to his talent of getting lost this time.”

Lanposa paused. “I see.”

“His fencing skills have, by some manner of implausible providence, sliced a mountain in half and was held up on charges of damaging public property. He chose to be arrested to follow the guards back to Re-Estize, where he is currently waiting in the dungeons of Rolente Castle for me to bring a warrant of his release, lest he... frees himself. In the interest of Rolente Castle’s integrity, I would therefore like to request a royal warrant of pardon and release.”

Every word coming from Gazef’s mouth leant towards the heights of absurdity, but the King merely nodded. There was no reason to lie – not from Gazef Stronoff, Warrior-Captain and possibly greatest warrior of their Kingdom’s army.

“I will write. Bring him to an audience with me immediately. I...” the King swallowed, “...do you think that one man can win against an army, Warrior-Captain?”

“That man would exist within the realm of heroes, Your Majesty.” Gazef averted his eyes. “For the lady Sycorax, and her companion Sir Caliban... she can turn people to stone. I have the absolute faith that...”

His words trailed off, mentally drawing a comparison between Ainz Ooal Gown and Sycorax. Both mysterious, both appearing within the same time... the only difference was that they appeared on either side of the Kingdom.

There were two of them. Were they working in tandem? Or were they opposing forces, fated to cancel the other out whenever they met?

Lanposa was a relatively good king. This sentence implied many things. Firstly, that he was good and loyal to the people he ruled over, to some extent, and that he cared for his people. Secondly, it also implied being able to survive the realm of the Kingdom’s politics to establish some policies to achieve his aims – but, also, sacrificing some for the good of many.

“...they will manage, I suppose,” Gazef conceded. “They are trustworthy, and talented, and resourceful. If their loyalty can be assured, then our Kingdom would have gained a large boon.”

“I do not need a boon... Gazef,” the King grimaced at the shocked visage of the Warrior-Captain. “For what I am about to tell you... I need a miracle. It is reckless, but I am about to stake the Kingdom’s future on one person.”

* * *

Dungeons.

Usually, restricted zones within the traditional RPGs, including YGGDRASIL.

The original word, though, referred to a room created in a castle’s foundation, or under the guardroom. Here was where suspects are arrested before their crime has been judged and await their punishment. Basically, each person is confined in their own rooms, and monitored. The inside of the room is dim – sunlight could only somehow barely get in. After the daylight passes, even the candlelight would fade to nothingness in the damp and dark. Neither hope nor future existed. With certainty, it is a dark place of suffering for those subject to punishment...

...at least, that would be the common impression.

The guards amassed around the sole occupied room in the castle’s dungeon stared, impressed, at the being standing within the cage of iron and stone. He was young – very young, with dark hair and earrings of gold, and _three_ katana hanging from his hip. The guards who had tried to relieve him of it were still nursing broken fingers. Putting the edged weapons with the man who was being charged with the destruction of public property – said property being a small mountain – seemed foolish, but so was taking on the man. At least he was quiet.

At least, the guards comforted themselves further, he could not be part of Eight Fingers. The powerful syndicate, named after the eight-fingered God of Theft, controlled the underworld of the Kingdom of Re-Estize. Their reach extended to every criminal group in the Kingdom and the sheer size of the organization meant that they were shrouded in mystery – which safely precluded acts of stupidly miraculous martial feats like the cutting of a hill with a slender edge.

“I come back to my house, Brain says that you disappeared, and then I receive an urgent report about a man who cut a _mountain._ ” Gazef’s face appeared in the gloom, led by a shuddering guardsman. “This is Crown land. Destruction of public property would require a trial, but I've paid bail for you.”

Caliban studied the swarthy man. “I see.”

“Could I ask, why didn’t you run?” Gazef sounded honestly curious.

“I was lost. This seemed like the fastest and easiest way to get back to Re-Estize.”

The Warrior-Captain turned on his heel, put his back to the bars, and sighed loudly. “You were not... wrong. Do you have anything as collateral?”

“No.”

“Could you leave a-”

“No.”

“Well, then how am I supposed to get you out of there?”

“What makes you think that this can keep me here?” A dangerous edge had entered Caliban’s normally flat vocals.

“C- Sir Caliban, we are in the _dungeons_ of Rolente Castle. There are iron bars and stone foundations and the earth itself.”

“And?”

Gazef turned around, intent on the repetition of his point, but he paused. The reason for his pause was attributed to the fact that Caliban had already drawn one blade – the white blade, and was examining it closely, curiously, with barely a threat. Visions of smoothly cut armour changed to smoothly cut stones and the collapse of a castle around innocent ears.

Over the keen edge of the blade, dark eyes met his. “Warrior-Captain Stronoff. Right now, this castle, this city, and all of its occupants stand between me and the Admiral. How many things do I cut through for my freedom?”

“I... I will renegotiate.” Gazef persuaded. “I have your guarantee of good behaviour?”

“...” Caliban thought. “Insofar as they do not conflict.”

“With what?”

Caliban remained silent.

Two torches had burnt through their lives and been replaced before Gazef returned, and the iron bars were unlocked and Caliban stepped out. The experience had left him barely touched, and the guardsmen gave him a wide berth.

“Captain... should we?”

Gazef rubbed his temple. “Luckily, I have royal warrant to take the custody of this man. Open the door, I’ll take this problem off of your hands.”

Happy to escape the vicinity of immense danger, the guards immediately complied. In fact, complying seemed to be the name of the game, since Caliban quietly followed Gazef’s watchful eye to the courtyard surrounded by the castle’s buildings. Passing knights and guards kept shooting them looks as they walked down hallways that looked more lived-in and repaired than the rest of Re-Estize.

“Royal warrant... so, I presume that some royal wishes my employment.”

“You were lucky to have been put in the dungeons of Rolente Castle,” Gazef huffed as they reached the end of a hallway. “The King wishes to see you, and thus your release was easier to arrange. If you don’t mind my question... Brain said that you cut through a _mountain_?”

“Yes.”

“...could you leave your swords outside?”

“No.”

“...can I convince you in any way to obey the laws of the Kingdom?”

“You may not.”

A set of heavy oaken doors dominated that part of the castle, and Gazef nodded to a herald, who slipped inside. After a moment, the doors swung open with the announcement:

“Warrior-Captain Stronoff, and guest.”

They entered a room which held a more functional importance than its gorgeous decoration. Worn carpets led from the door down to the far end of the richly decorated throne room, where stood on a raised dais a rich throne.

Upon the throne sat an old man in richly decorated robes. His head was already scattered with pale white hair, the emancipated body was beyond being described as healthy even as a compliment, and his facial complexion was poor. The hand holding the sceptre was as thin as a twig, and the crown on his head weighed down on the decrepit visage.

The old man announced in a weak voice: “Warrior-Captain, it is truly splendid you were able to return safely.”

“Yes! Thank you very much, Your Majesty!” Hearing these words of concern, Gazef bowed deeply as he replied. “I have brought the requested one.”

“You are armed, Sir Caliban.”

Caliban gave a shrug.

“I see.” The King murmured. “I have given up my names, but you may know of me as King Lanposa the Third, of the House of Vaiself that presides over this Kingdom.”

“I don’t.”

“...I hear from the Warrior-Captain that you have come a far way, from across the horizon.”

“Yes.” Caliban continued to stare at the old man.

“You are a pirate.” The elderly King did not mince his words. “In fact, you are a privateer, come on orders from a superior. A foreigner, in not so many words. And no spy from the Theocracy would show their hand so openly – nor, I daresay, boast of such martial ability.”

Caliban shrugged.

The old King grimaced. In his reign of thirty-nine years, he was now sixty years old. He would have long abdicated the throne too a successor, if for the lack of one. It was not for a lack of princes – rather, the two candidates lacked qualifications by far, and they would definitely become a puppet of the greater nobles were the abdication to happen now.

Standing before him was a great martial threat, on par with the mysterious Magic Caster Ainz Ooal Gown.

“Your superior is a woman, I am told.”

Caliban shot a look towards Gazef.

“The mage Sycorax seemed indeed to be Sir Caliban’s companion, and the one to take charge between the two of them,” Gazef tersely relayed. “I am sorry, Sir Caliban, but you are mercenaries looking for business, for lack of a better word.”

Gazef stood by the side, having already discerned the King’s intentions the moment Lanposa asked for the price of hiring those mercenaries. Considering that the Kingdom waged a yearly war with the neighbouring Empire, there was a certain need for excellent mercenaries. The current times could fairly be described as a time of warring states, as noble families broke from the Crown to establish their own fiefs and build up their own economic and military power. Magic was not the sole domain of the Magic Casters’ guilds – the battlefields also saw the exchanges of volleys between magic and arrows, the clashing of spears and swords. These were restless times for commoners, but profitable for those of the free companies who owed their loyalty only to gold.

“We would like to hire your services.”

“I’m sorry,” Caliban did not sound sorry at all, “but only the Admiral has the authority to negotiate business on behalf of our collective.”

“I am sorry,” the King commented, “but I doubt that you could get any better opportunities in a mercenary corps run by a woman. Magic would go far to make up the difference in physical strength between men and women, but you could do so much better. A house, a steady income, a wife... we could offer that to you.”

Caliban frowned, trying to comprehend the logic by which the Kingdom operated.

“You cannot be a sell-sword forever, Sir Caliban,” Gazef loyally echoed.

Caliban’s lips thinned from how hard he pressed them together. “Well, as interesting as far as offers go, I think you’re a bit desperate, Your Muggy. See, as much as you’re willing to shell out, I don’t know if you can keep your promise. I rather like my job, my travels. There is, basically, no means of guarantee that I am willing or able to comply with whatever request is being held.”

Gazef made a face at the stark insult.

“You’re already getting it.” The King beamed, an act which stretched the lines of his face. “But this is a job that only your mercenary corps can do, _because_ you’re led by a woman.”

Caliban’s confusion prevailed, so the King elaborated: “The task at hand, you see, is to enthrone my daughter.”


	27. XXVI: Black Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joyeux Noël! Merry Christmas! - LLS

In the rented mansion that the spies of Nazarick had taken as a temporary base, Shalltear was just barely interrupted from casting 「Gate」.

“Emergency message for the Admiralty, care of Nazarick!”

“I’m going to meet Ainz-sama now!” Shalltear complained, her eyes glowing red in their bloodlust as she rounded on the clownish Nephilim.

“ _Effendi_ somehow got a royal audience,” Corazón relayed. “I have him on 「Message」, but there’s no promises that nobody would run spells to detect eavesdropping yet. This is the first crisis that we must face together, and my orders require me to remain on standby to extract _effendi_ if needed.”

A few quick calculations on her part made her realise that Corazón was right. While Sebas and Solution could probably rescue Caliban – even if the humans couldn’t harm him – they would not be able to fulfil the requirements of stealth that Ainz had mandated.

Of course, the orders of their creators and superiors took precedence, Shalltear acknowledged. Even if Caliban was growing into a greater annoyance by the day.

Shalltear sobered, taking the written missive. “I will bring this immediately to the Supreme Beings.”

“ _Tesekkür ederim, begum_.” Corazón tapped the hem of his hood before turning. Between one turn on his heel and the next, he disappeared in a sound like a flutter of wings.

“Shalltear-sama?” Solution hesitated. “Should I...?”

“No. Hold down the fort with Sebas.” Shalltear ordered, before pointing towards her cowering slave-concubines. “The two of you, follow me.”

“Yes, Lady Shalltear!”

Solution curtsied as 「Gate」 shimmered into existence. “Now, let us return to our home... Nazarick...”

* * *

Cocytus trod with footsteps that belied the weight of his crystal-enhanced body. The servants behind him scurried towards the Throne Hall like a parade of ants.

The Clavicula Salomonis, which was the room right before the Throne Hall, loomed before long. Normally, apart from the Golems and the sixty-seven demonic Golems which guarded the vast hemispherical hall, this room would be devoid of other.

However, many figures currently populated Solomon’s Gate. Specifically, the Overseer and four Floor Guardians – Albedo, Demiurge, Aura, Mare, and Shalltear. In addition, the four had brought along their own retinues of high-ranking servants.

“My. Apologies. I. Have. Arrived. Late.”

“No, Cocytus, it is I who bear the responsibility of casting「Message」,” Albedo murmured. “I bear a decree from Ainz-sama.”

Multiple spines stiffened, greater and lesser monster craning all manner of aural orifice to better listen.

“As we all know, a new Supreme Being has taken residence in Nazarick,” Albedo admitted slowly, as if every word had to be forcibly extracted from her mouth. “All available higher-ranking staff of Nazarick – that is, the Guardians, myself as the Overseer, and all of you, along with your respective coteries, along with those of the Pleiades in residence – are to present themselves to Sycorax-sama.”

“Oh? My creator has mentioned her.” Demiurge pushed his glasses up his nose.

Albedo nodded tersely. “Let us cover the topics of discussion, then.”

Everybody listened attentively, since in a moment they would be paying a visit to the integration of all of the Supreme Beings, at the heart of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Even a slight mistake would command death as the only suitable apology.

After the explanation and a quick moment for everyone to digest what was said, the doors of Solomon’s Gate swung open. Incomparable joy seemed to grace a few of those who had only entered this demesne a handful of times as they entered the Throne Hall.

The high ceiling and the surrounding walls were predominantly white, with golden highlights. The numerous chandeliers which hung from the ceiling were made in precious stones of all colours of the rainbow, and they emitted a fantastic, dreamlike radiance. Flags emblazoned with different symbols hung from flagpoles sunk into the walls; forty-one in total swayed gently in the wind, from the ceiling to the floor. The centre of the far side of the Hall held a raised dais ten steps high, and atop that dais sat the great throne that dominated the room, made from a single block of obsidian – the World Item, Throne of Kings.

This room was easily the most conspicuous symbol of Nazarick’s wealth, if not power. Anyone who entered would most probably momentarily forget their internal torments.

Shalltear stopped walking. “Uh...”

Cocytus glanced up to see what had her so taken aback. The sight took a while to register: to the left of the Throne of Kings was parked a single chair, made out of what looked like aquamarine-painted silver. Its flaring back was carved into a sigil – a broken heart, set within an eight-point compass rose the size of a dinner table.

The banner of Ainz Ooal Gown still dominated the room – now, though, with a smaller accompaniment.

“Shalltear,” Albedo hissed, “move.”

Leaving their servants behind along the way, the Floor Guardians and Overseer assembled themselves in a row before the steps below the throne. Following this, they faced the guild symbol of Ainz Ooal Gown hung on the wall and saluted, expressing their own respect and loyalty. Afterwards, they all got down and knelt on one knee, with their heads inclined downwards, and silently waited.

Before long, the heavy sound of doors being opened resounded from behind, and a single pair of footsteps was heard entering into the large room.

“All hail the arrivals of the most Supreme Beings of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown-sama and Sycorax-sama.” That was the Pleiades battle-maid, Narberal Gamma.

Once again the doors swung open, bringing along the crisp rubbing of leather shoes, the repeated strikes of a staff against the floor, and the whisper of scales.

“Carpeting,” said a female alto voice, “would be extremely helpful. I can feel the marble flooring, _brr_.”

Sharp intakes of breath came from those Guardians who needed to breathe. Looks were shared amongst the Guardians and their Overseer, mainly that of panic. Their first meeting face-to-face, and already the Supreme One was offended!

“My apologies, Sycorax-san. I forgot that you’re newly sensitive to cold. Erm... 「Create Greater Item」?”

There was a flash of magic, before...

“...a tail-warmer.” There was an unidentifiable tone in her voice. “Thank you, Momonga-san. You know...”

There was a laugh. A rumble followed, and most of the Guardians nearly gave themselves whiplash turning to look at their Supreme Being laugh alongside a silver-haired Nagini – heads craned, leaning into each other’s space, with the intimacy of two people who were close to each other by choice, if not design.

They quickly turned back to genuflect as the footsteps and rasps resumed. The footsteps slowly passed by the row of Guardians, and the sound of stairs being climbed and the thrones being sat on could be heard. After this, Albedo stood up, in her element as Overseer of the Floor Guardians.

“Everybody. Please raise your heads to gaze upon the noble presences of Ainz Ooal Gown-sama and... Sycorax.”

All of the spectators simultaneously raised their heads to look at the masters of the raised dais, their movements producing a brushing sound made by friction. Cocytus also raised his head immediately.

With the golden staff clasped in his hand, an eerily frightening aura wrapped around his entire body, and exuding mysterious dark rays from behind his back, this was indeed the Supreme Being of The Great Tomb of Nazarick – Ainz Ooal Gown, atop his throne.

If he was dark, then the one occupying the throne next to his was the embodiment of argent light. She wore a robe of opalescent white, belted with joined crystals. Lustrous silver locks cascaded down, from under a diadem of pearls twisted in with turquoise mythril around her brow. One green eye peered with distant interest down from atop a choker of black and argent pearls. A tail, whitish and scaly, existed in the place of legs, which trailed down and coiled over the feet of her throne – wrapped in, as noted, as magically created tail-warmer of black wool accented in silver.

There was a certain feeling of ambiguity that overcame the Guardians for a moment. For one, this beautifully dressed woman was a stranger to Nazarick. For another, their Overlord had long mandated that Sycorax be treated as would any other Supreme Being – as their lady and mistress, with Momonga as her only equal.

Albedo ascended the steps to take her place at Ainz’s right hand, inspecting all at the foot of the stairs before nodding in satisfaction to face the thrones.

“Ainz-sama, the Guardians of Nazarick have all gathered before you. Please give us our commands.”

Ainz gave a low ‘un’ sound of agreement, and struck the ground heavily with the staff in his hand. This attracted the gazes of everybody, and he slowly opened his mouth to speak: “Welcome, all of you Guardians before me. First, allow me to express my thanks for your presences.”

“A- Ainz-sama!” Mare ducked his head lower, the male Dark Elf designed as a trap overcome with strong emotion. “Such kind words are wasted on us...!”

“With that said, I would like to introduce you all to Sycorax.” Bony phalanges ringed with jewellery and metals rose to acknowledge the one on the throne of mythril. “Sycorax has never been able to come to Nazarick, and the opportunity has arisen to induct her into the ranks of the Supreme Beings that she richly deserves, after the weal and woe that we have shared as comrades, even if not part of the Guild. Furthermore, her presence, and that of her Fleet, has opened a hopeful possibility.”

The air seemed to freeze as Momonga, emboldened, swept his hand in a gesture. “If she is here with me, then it could mean that my comrades have entered this world with me! Those who were once gone may shortly walk our halls once again!”

Momonga, as Ainz Ooal Gown had not expected opposition. If there had been, that would be sad, and he would have abused his Guildmaster authority in desperation.

However, it never came. For a second, there was silence-

-and the next instant, the cheers were deafening. A chorus of voices, humanoid and monstrous alike, rang in mad cacophony.

“Praise be to Ainz Ooal Gown! Praise be to the Supreme Beings!”

“My friends! My comrades that have been lost among the Nine Worlds! One day, they shall return to this Tomb! And this hope that has descended upon us comes from my dearest friend, Sycorax!” Another sweep, with illusory flames to complete the effect. “It is therefore that I must tell you all something – 「Create Greater Item」.”

The spell that could immediately create a magic item took hold. The woman in silver started as a flag formed, joining the forty-one individual flags. A broken heart superimposed over a compass rose took pride of place between two flags of different sigils. At the same time, Momonga announced:

“I, Momonga, Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, also known as Ainz Ooal Gown, do hereby recognise Sycorax as a probationary member in good standing of the guild, and thus welcome her elevation into our ranks. This recognition will remain unto perpetuity.”

“...” Sycorax blinked, jumping in her seat as Momonga raised his staff and forcefully slammed its end into the ground. “Should anyone object, rise now and let your views be heard!”

“Objection!” Sycorax leapt to her feet, pointing an accusing finger to Momonga. “I’m already part of a guild, I’m Guildmaster of my _own_ guild!”

“Well, there’s no official guild entry, and I’m the only member of Ainz Ooal Gown around,” Momonga concluded, pulling a silver-wrought ring with an amethyst embedded into the centre from his Item Box. “So all that was really needed was my recognition of your status within the guild as my comrade and equal.”

* * *

_Wait, this wasn’t in the plan!_

Earlier, Sycorax had skipped breakfast. It seemed easier to face whatever lay in Demiurge’s domain on an empty stomach. Having amassed photographic evidence via 「Camera Obscura」, all she needed to do was toss the file at Momonga over lunch and order every NPC out of the room.

Sycorax ate heartily into a bowl of rice gruel, accompanied with braisedSæhrímnir belly meat, chopped scallions, and fried dough fritters. She was halfway through the bowl when the file was laid before her.

“Is this...?”

“I had no idea how to broach the topic to you.” Sycorax paused, before she set her chopsticks and spoon decisively atop the bowl with a _clack_. “Momonga. Suzuki-san. Satoru-san? Sit down.”

The Overlord plopped down into a random chair instead of the head of the Conference Room table. It went a way to show his panicked state of mind.

“I was a soldier for thirty years, and thereafter I worked in a military academy,” Sycorax huffed. “Japan was not always a peaceful country – and even with Article Nine, we still had- have humanitarian intervention.”

She poked her chopsticks. “I served in Germany, you know.”

“Thank you for your service.”

“Never mind that,” she shook her head. “The thing is... there is a part of me that accepts the rationale of resources. And another part of me that... is sickened.”

“I ordered Demiurge to find alternatives for making scrolls,” Momonga admitted quietly. “I... I just... never thought it would be like this. And... but... I... don’t feel bad. Sycorax-san... Kaiō-san... Michiru-san, I’ll fix this. I’ll punish Demiurge, I’ll free them, just- please don’t leave me.”

“I am not commenting on your practices, Satoru-san!” A muffled thump sounded on the table, nearly cracking the cutlery. “I have no moral high ground to stand on. I just wanted to ask you if you planned to keep in contact with the humans here. If you do, you need to hide this. None of this torture and... and harvesting can be traced back to you.”

Her green eye lingered on him. “Do you get what I am saying? If you are hated by the world, it becomes more difficult for me to help you.”

Momonga had concluded beforehand, that any emotional suppressions were part of the undead immunity to mind-affecting effects. Right now, he had an Undead body and mind, but some remnants of his humanity remained. Even when he experienced emotions, if they surged to a peak, they would be immediately suppressed.

The chance of losing all his emotions in the future existed.

He had thought that it would hardly be a big deal, because no matter how this world or himself turned out, his will would still be his own. In addition, the NPCs of Nazarick would be at his side, so worrying about it seemed premature.

There was also the fact that Ainz Ooal Gown was a guild that had always played the role of the villain. They had PK’ed their way to glory, and thus they were a much-reviled guild. For all he knew, the other players might want to take revenge on him out of a sense of righteousness. In that part, he was fortunate in that the other guild he had immediately come into contact with was very much in similar straits as he was – for every ten people that admired Sycorax, Touch Me had said, was one person who hated her too.

In the almost-certain case that other Players had come – such as Sycorax – he needed to handle them.

Watching Sycorax slump over her lunch in dejection, though, squeezed at his heart in a way that was not suppressed by emotions. Rather, it seemed as though even Undead immunity to mental attacks had to give way to the power of friendship, because the tear that dropped from the sole eye of hers that he could see clawed at his heart.

_You made your friend cry._

“Logically, I know this means nothing, that you won’t do the same to us,” Sycorax sighed. “I called my guild the enemy of humanity. But... our NPCs are loyal to us, but what about our other friends? What about my NPCs? What guarantee do I have that the denizens of Nazarick won’t turn on my Fleet?”

Comprehension was almost instant for him.

Given the current strength of Nazarick’s defences, they could easily overwhelm about 30 Level 100 players. In addition, they could use World Items for a nigh-impregnable fortress capable of standing up to invasions like in its YGGDRASIL heyday. However, it was easy to see how dire the situation could be without reinforcements, and there could come a time when the World Items could become unusable.

Such a situation, however, could be planned with the security of a land base.

The Fomori Fleet was a fleet of ships. What they gained in flexibility, mobility and firepower cost them the ability to farm resources over time via land, manpower, and the general assurance of security for their members. A scenario of one of their people, someone, anyone, of their friends accidentally caught in some torture – if someone from Hostis Humani Generis got caught in Demiurge’s tortures and was turned into mincemeat? Or someone from Ainz Ooal Gown accidentally shot down by a Hostis Humani Generis ship?

Momonga was fairly confident in his ability to recognise them. For the rest of his subordinates... well, the folder of photographs straight from the bowels of the seventh floor was revealing the depths of his ignorance. All he could do now was reach out and take her shoulder in a comforting pat.

“I will fix this,” he whispered. “Please trust me, Michiru-san.”

“I trust you, Satoru-san,” she whispered back. “But how do I trust your subordinates when they can lie to you?”

“I will introduce you. Please treat them well. They are still the children of my- _our_ comrades.”

“But how will you justify it?”

“You are my hope, Sycorax-san. And you will be the hope of Nazarick!”

* * *

Albedo’s smile shone brightly as she proclaimed: “We have all heard your glorious name. All hail Sycorax! Oh Supreme One, Sycorax-sama, every member of the Great Tomb of Nazarick pledges their undying loyalty to you.”

“Glory to Sycorax! Praise be to Ainz Ooal Gown! Praise be to the Supreme Beings! The greatest on the universe! The most just and powerful! Supreme Lady, leader of us, Sycorax-sama! We shall give ourselves completely to you! Long live Sycorax! Queen of the seas, Sycorax! All shall know of your greatness!”

Sycorax sank back into the glaucous throne, her right hand to her temple. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

Her words went unheeded, because Momonga rose from the throne and patted her right shoulder. “Not a chance.”

“You never fail to surprise me, boy.” Her fingers drummed a tattoo on the armrest of the throne. “I suppose magic likes me enough to give me a throne of silver and not gold.”

“Mythril, actually. Mixed with orichalcum, done in a _shibuchi_ alloy that turned misty aquamarine.” Momonga shrugged at the look shot to him in her green eyes. “It’s a lovely effect that also shows your nautical background.”

The look sharpened. “I am going to pretend that you just didn’t kidnap me to induct me into your guild, because when I get back to the Fleet I’m going to do the same thing and add you into the Admiralty manifest. Now continue with your happy news, oh mighty Guildmaster.”

“Certainly.” Momonga made a motion, and the cheers soon quieted.

“Then, I will make my next announcement. In light of the recent events, I have decided on our next course of action following the establishment of our security – that is, after Cocytus’ forays into military subjugation. Ainz Ooal Gown, and the Great Tomb of Nazarick itself, will embark to realize this one absolute goal! Failing is not a possibility! The goal that everyone must accept...”

Momonga raised his staff towards the air, and the lights around the banners burst into brightly glowing light that seemed to eat away at the shadows. “–To restore the full might of Ainz Ooal Gown, and take it to unprecedented heights! For the forty-one beings that once dwelt in this Tomb... for the thirty-seven beings that sailed the Sea of Ægir... My comrades, lost among the Nine Worlds! One day, they shall return to this Tomb!”

The shouts and praise of the NPCs and servants thundered through the Throne Room. And within the babble, a pair of eyes suddenly shone.

“Now, the next order of business. Is there anything else to report?”

“Ah, yes!” Shalltear rushed to the front and knelt, offering above her head a letter. “Sycorax-sama, felicitations on your ascension into the ranks of the Supreme Beings! Your agent Corazón has brought urgent tidings.”

Sycorax took the missive with a perfunctory thanks and read through it. “Well, this is... the hell? Momonga!”

Sensing the urgency, the celebratory mood took a turn to the cautious as Momonga hurriedly took the written missive and scanned it.

“Wait, this is going on _now_?”

“I didn’t read it!” Shalltear bowed her head.

Momonga waved his hand, passing the missive to Demiurge and Albedo. “Do not apologise, you could not have known- well, I could not have anticipated such a thing happening. The first order is, of course, to begin a relay of this Corazón’s eavesdropping into the heart of Nazarick. Sycorax, do you have a way to contact him?”

“The beat to quarters has sounded.” Sycorax’s hand disappeared into a black portal, retrieving from her Item Box a spear etched with runes, magic whispering as she cast her spell. “「Sound of the Ocean」.”

From her sleeve, she threw out a giant conch shell, complete with bamboo mouthpiece. “Reverberate, waves! 「Triton’s Trumpet」!”

Like a bugle of war, the conch began to resound:

{...task at hand, you see, is to enthrone my daughter.}


	28. XXVII: By and large

Back in YGGDRASIL, the Sea Witch class might seem largely situational. Since all its spells required shells as their casting ingredients, and were Water- and Wind-element in nature, or part of a Divination sub-class, most players would have opted for a more standardised job class. Sycorax, by virtue of her Gorgon racial class, had benefited immensely from the racial boosts to one of her chosen specialised jobs. Despite the fact that it required her to hold all types of shells on hand to cast spells, Sycorax was still the most flexible player that Momonga had known.

The shell she had used for a conferencing relay spell was a Triton’s trumpet, known in Japanese as a _horagai_ or _jinkai_. The curled conch emitted sounds, except instead of amplifying the rushing of blood in the eardrum, it amplified within the confines of the Throne Hall the sounds of an unreasonable human king bargaining with a directionally challenged pirate swordsman.

“Ah... _Raido, Isaz, Perthro, Eihwaz_...” Sycorax pulled a small card binder with the hand not holding the carved spear, muttering under her breath before tearing off one piece with her teeth to blow the paper. It burned in mid-air, the ashes spelling out four runes before a screen framed by smoke shimmered into existence.

“That’s the annoying one!” Shalltear screeched as Caliban’s back appeared on screen. “He got lost on a straight road, Ainz-sama!”

“Caliban’s flaws...” Sycorax sighed, though her comment went lost as Caliban opened his mouth.

{Why would we negotiate with you? Yours is a weak kingdom. We simply need to wait.}

{For the Kingdom to split?} The old man on the throne, presumably the King, commented. {The Crown controls thirty percent of the Kingdom’s land, the largest individual holding on this side of the Azerlisia Mountains. None of the six great nobles can hope to match the price the Crown is willing to offer you here and now. All that is needed is to throw in your lot with my third daughter, the light of my life... the Kingdom’s Third Princess, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself.}

“The Third Princess has no political backing,” Demiurge calculated immediately. “Could he suspect something?”

A third voice and a third face joined the setup, and the two Supreme Beings exchanged sharp looks as Gazef started speaking:

{Your Majesty, wouldn’t it be... prudent... to ask on behalf of one of the princes? It would certainly give them an... edge.}

{The future is at stake!} A fit of coughing could not get in the way of the sudden wave of impassioned words. {My sons, Barbro and Zanac... I fear grave tidings for either one that gets the Crown, for they will slaughter their siblings. Yet, Renner... Renner, who cares for the people, is the most worthy choice. Would you not agree that passing the Crown to the most worthy is the most important duty of royalty?}

{By that same argument, then, the entire idea of a dynasty by blood is discredited since the most worthy person might not even be of your blood.}

Momonga face-palmed.

“Shut _up_ , Momonga.” Sycorax did not look away from the screen.

“I didn’t say anything!”

{And in fact, what you do with the throne is your business,} Caliban continued. {No matter who comes out on top, they’ll still look for me.}

{You stand fast? Even with the threat of execution for being rude to royalty?}

{I’m a pirate. Disregard for authority was created in me.}

Sycorax exclaimed in some weird masochistic joy. “「Rebellious Spirit」! That’s a Pirate’s special passive ability. Disregards mind-control attacks of a specific subset.”

“I remember that one,” Momonga conceded. “It resisted 「Despair Aura」one through five at max level. Completely surprised me at that battle royale – the martial tournament, remember?”

“Because someone bypassed all your negative-type buffs to hit you?”

Albedo fumed, literal steam escaping from her temples as her amber eyes lingered on the sight of the two Supreme Beings chatting with an unprecedented familiarity. “That...”

“Albedo, you’re being rude,” Demiurge kept his focus on the screen projection, even as plans and plots seemed to coalescence behind the mirrors of his glasses. “Sycorax-sama is a Supreme Being now.”

“There must be some ploy at hand!” Albedo hissed back. “Some plot of Ainz-sama-”

“Demiurge. Albedo.”

“Ainz-sama?!” The Succubus and the Arch Devil immediately turned, backs ramrod straight under their master’s intensifying glare. Aura and Mare trembled, being near the blast radius.

“Pay attention.”

Shalltear snorted under her breath, gleeful in the face of Albedo’s ashen discomfort.

“We should...” Ainz pondered.

“Hey, Momonga-san.” Sycorax spoke up. “How much of a signing bonus do you think he would offer?”

“You mean...” Ainz quickly nodded. “Um! Do it!”

All the Guardians and their servants present stared as the newest of the Supreme Beings cast a「Message」and spoke lowly, too low for anyone to hear. On the conjured screen, Caliban’s head tilted.

{I will definitely think about your offer, Your Muggy. A good day to you.}

Sycorax groaned as the audience ended with Caliban being unceremoniously escorted away. “Kapudan Pasha? Ah, never mind. Corazón, keep an eye on Caliban, that’s an order. Over and out.”

The sound cut off. The screen dissipated. Sycorax picked up the shell trumpet, experimentally blowing a note before the item disappeared back into her Item Box.

“Today is a bunch of surprises over surprises-” she cut off, blinking at the Floor Guardians as if seeing them for the first time up close. “...ah...”

She drew herself up. Since, being a Nagini, there was six metres of her, the full height at which she could reasonably extend with a stable enough stance to fire a bow or one of the heavily restricted firearms meant only for Pirates cleared half a metre over even Cocytus, the tallest Guardian. The「Rune-Infused Spear」 seemed more impressive since it was glowing from the spells that she had cast earlier.

“Greetings to the Guardians of Nazarick currently present. I am Sycorax – Guildmaster of Hostis Humani Generis, captain of the grand barque _Queen of the Night_ , Fleet Admiral of the Fomori pirates. And, apparently...” a frown crossed her face. “If Punitto Moe is your creator, and I’m his grandmother, that makes me...”

“Their great-grandmother, Sycorax-san,” Momonga supplied quietly.

“Ah! You have my thanks, Momonga-san.” Sycorax turned back to the blinking Arch Devil, Succubus, Dark Elves, Insect Lord and True Vampire. “Well, you have my gratitude for your unconditional support of me.”

She smiled.

* * *

The smile dropped once the Hall was vacated, and Shalltear bore a newly penned fragmentary order for Corazón back through the Gate for Re-Estize.

Sycorax slumped into the aquamarine throne, her writing-box packed to one side and her right hand stained with black ink. “You know,” she drawled, “Hostis Humani Generis is supposed to be the chaotic guild.”

“Call it revenge for that time with the Five Rainbow Buddhas,” Momonga easily riposted back, leaning in his own throne. “Well... Aura and Mare don’t seem to mind, Albedo and Shalltear were giving you looks that... causes my self-preservation instincts to flare up, Cocytus and Demiurge seem to be on the fence. I haven’t asked Sebas, Gargantua, Victim or the Pleiades, but they seem to be following my every word so far.”

“Because you’re their lauded oh-so-powerful _Ainz-sama_ ~” Sycorax put a mocking tone on the last platitude.

“Umu.” Momonga’s hands steepled together. “What do you think of them?”

“What do you think of Nereus?”

“I think you managed to build a better rapport than I’ve done.”

The Elder Lich sounded so despondent that Sycorax quickly thought about it. “You know... I run a pirate guild in which I’m the Guildmaster, but it gives me minimal say except as to who joins. Pirate crews – the real ones we modelled the Fleet’s structures after – are, in history, people who suffered at the hands of kings, so they elect a Captain and a Quartermaster. The Captain’s authority is absolute only in times of conflict; every other time, the Quartermaster is the one in control. Almost like co-captains. We have Articles and Agreement and all of that. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“We had elections too!” Momonga complained. “We decided all prospective members by majority vote... erm, sorry, Sycorax-san. I wanted you to join, but...”

“I understand,” Sycorax blandly replied. “You’re missing my point. In Hostis Humani Generis, we are pirates. We built the power structure of the pirates – that of a relatively equal democracy – into the structure. Sure, there’s a sort of hierarchy, but I eat the same food as everyone in my crew. I work and talk my lips off and steal whole archives because it would help the fleet that we made, and my crew responds with that same understanding that they were created by us, and chose to follow our directive anyway.”

She paused. “You know, that’s an interesting topic, how much of their willingness to serve is voluntary. The... sentience... of our creations haven’t been tested, has it?”

“No. No, it hasn’t.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t. Well, if chance permits...” Sycorax waved. “If not, it’ll work out.”

“How do you remain so positive, Sycorax-san?” Momonga asked. “Aren’t you worried?”

“I am freaking out. In cold sweat. Shiverin’ ‘n me timbers,” Sycorax dropped into a pirate cant before she sighed. “But the duty of a pirate captain, and even more for the grand admiral of a fleet that is barely a squadron, is to remain level-headed throughout the whole crisis. This is why I wrote out a full five-paragraph order mandating two divisions of my whole fleet to set out and conquer the waters around the islands we took over. This is why I’m giving Caliban frankly boring orders instead of a reckless rush – you like caution, and I just... want this to go right.”

“Because of your luck?” Momonga nodded. “Remember that time we teamed up with Librobum Prohibitorum and Icarus with Perorocino and Yamaiko-san?”

“The Erotic Psyche quest?”

Both of them pointed at each other. “ _Third-wheeling it big-time!_ ” came the simultaneous declarations.

“What was up with those two?” Momonga complained.

“Boyfriends. Canon-san was over the moon. All that BL manga rotted her brain through.” Sycorax considered her ink-stained hand. “ ‘The marriage system in YGGDRASIL is horribly sexist, outdated, anti-LGBT+, propagating of 19th century social norms’, _blah blah blah_. We held their in-game wedding minutes before the servers closed. We were already planning it, but being publicly listed on the YGGDRASIL website wasn’t good for them.”

Momonga hummed. There was, after all, a world of difference between play-acting as pirates and being flagged for violating the Social Order Maintenance Act. The game’s impending deletion had lowered a lot of risks for a gay wedding to be officiated. “I thought you needed a cathedral?”

“In a part to be _culturally inclusive_ ,” the words were spoken like it caused her physical pain, “the _shitty devs_ -” again, a curse only understood between fellow YGGDRASIL players, “-decreed that all points of resurrection may be designated for a wedding ceremony. This includes all places recognised within Japan’s laws, _including_ the one that states that captains of ships can perform a marriage ceremony at sea, but only for that country's citizens.”

“And, being a pirate guild, I assume OTP Is Canon-san asked you to officiate.”

“I volunteered. She decorated the ships.” The colours had been literally nailed into the masts. They were still pulling them out when she had left on her trip. “Speaking of ships, is there a site I can cast 「Compass Rose」on?”

“We’ll discuss it later. Umu...” Momonga paused. “I... need your help?”

She slumped. “The romantic rivalry?”

If Momonga could, he would have done a spit-take. Since his Undead body was sadly lacking in flesh – or saliva – it was the clack of his knuckle-bones which announced how he found this whole preposition.

“Don’t lie.” Sycorax gave him an askance look. “Shalltear Bloodfallen is practically otaku bait, Albedo caters to a very specific stereotype, and there are too many maids. With... other people... this would be attractive except...”

Momonga drooped. “Please don’t say any more.”

“...”

“...alright, say something, the silence prickles,” Momonga complained good-naturedly.

“Do you feel up for romance?” Sycorax considered aloud. “I know evil overlords are supposed to have harems, it’s a terrible stereotype, but... well, to use slang from my time, that level of thirst might kill you.”

“We’re... still using that expression... Michiru-san.” Momonga sighed. “Except that I don’t think anyone puts it like you. Maybe Perorocino-san. He would’ve loved you.”

As he spoke, his conviction solidified. Everything could be fixed, even this. It was important to remember, even if he lost his emotions, that the care and concern and desire for his comrades did not die. He was not wrong when he said to the Guardians that Sycorax was his hope – and, with her inception into the guild, a long-cherished dream once thought impossible had been reached.

Perhaps, Suzuki Satoru reflected, another might be possible. That, though, was for another day and time. Now...

“Sycorax-san... not every one of the NPCs might accept you,” he rose from the throne to stand in front of her. “I... erm... would prefer to make it clear that you are... dear to me. To my... humanity.”

Still appraising her nails, Sycorax conjured a handkerchief from her Item Box to wipe at her fingers. “You want me to be your beard.”

“Well, I can’t have sex, and... marriage is about trust. I can only trust you.” Rings clanked as Momonga raised a hand in plea. “It’s like... I feel lust for them, Albedo and Shalltear, but with you... it’s different.”

“Is this about establishing _trust_ ,” Sycorax quietly murmured, “or about _control_?”

Momonga fell silent.

“...I don’t know.”

Sycorax considered, turning the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown on her left index finger. “I think,” she said at last, “I will have a picnic with... Aura, Mare, and Cocytus. Outside the Great Tomb. Should you decide on an answer, we will be at the forward base you’ve established with Green Secret House.”

She was talking about a base-building Item from YGGDRASIL, used by players to construct secret bases to take shelter in.

“...um.”

As she rose from the throne, she turned to Momonga. “Satoru-san. Please consider this: I might have applied to Ainz Ooal Gown ten times, and was rejected all ten times. I am now Guildmaster of my own guild, with rights and responsibilities to a different set of comrades – which also means Akemi-san. This is me, talking to you as an equal, even though I am standing in your territory, as your guest. You have been – you _are_ , an exemplary host, and I hope that I would be able to offer the same level of care on my fleet as you have towards me. However, I am also a level 100 player. I have earned my level like you – through combat, quests, and many hours of work. So, please give me a chance to integrate myself with your Guardians. I have to prove myself worthy of respect too, you know.”

Momonga slowly rose, descending the steps with arms spread. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown floated, surrounded in the effect of trapped screaming souls and floating in the air as Momonga let it go. Arms cloaked in black and ringed in jewels and precious metals closed around Sycorax in a sudden, protective hug, void of 「Negative Touch」.

“I’ll still watch you.”

“I know,” Sycorax whispered. “We worry about each other. That’s what friends do. We are, to our knowledge, the only ones from our world, who have found each other.”

Momonga let go of her, taking a step back.

“...for all it’s worth now, Michiru-san,” Momonga said at last, the lower jaw of his skull face chattering and grinding, “I am glad that we met at last. Does your eye hurt? Do you need a healer?”

Sycorax had pressed her left hand to the left side of her face. “...Thank you,” she sobbed into her palm. “Thank you, Satoru-san.”


	29. XXVIII: Binnacle List

 

Unlike most of the gamers of YGGDRASIL, Kaiō Michiru was actually old enough to remember when food was less about refuelling and more about taste. Grandma Kaiō had been a native of Hakodate, and summers of seafood caught fresh from the coast and clam-digging for _ramen_ and _udon_ was a prized childhood memory. Michiru had inherited from Grandma that same pickiness, added on with the experience of Yokosuka JMSDF curry, on top of life in Kanagawa in general.

Even if everything else went to shit afterwards – the Big Eight, the Arcology War, ageing and the little triumphs and tragedies of ordinary and extraordinary life – the facts of Kaiō Michiru had not changed from eighteen going on eighty. Kaiō Michiru knew her food: knew a time when food was more than meat-flavoured gel and health drinks, and consequently did not appreciate the lack of a taste function in the neural nano-interface. This was a woman who, in the Arcology War, had spent her leave dining at Maxim’s in Paris, paying more attention to the  _plat_ _principal_  than to the military brass coincidentally also dining at Maxim’s.

Therefore, it was on this particular morning that Sycorax, now as a Nagini in her twenties, was eating doughnuts slathered in butter and jam with all an elderly lady’s relish. Her absorption with pastries, however, was not so great that she failed to note the rest of the selection, or to neglect her breakfast companion.

“So... you have a site in mind?”

Momonga nodded. His skeletal face might show no indication, but the attending servants looked askance at the fact that Sycorax was attacking the muffins with more attention than paid to the master of Nazarick. “Your... Nereus, he canvassed five sites that we’ve outlined with Demiurge, and he chose this point, midway from the cabin that I’ve erected for the Lizardmen offensive. He also flirted with... well, everyone. Even Aura and Mare?”

“Racial traits of Sidhe. Titania-chan was big on not being restricted by gender.” Sycorax lifted a doughnut and took an immense bite. Rich red real strawberry jam gushed out over her chin, even as she drew back and snorted as the jam dripped onto her breakfast plate. She threw back her head and laughed, one of the loudest and gayest sounds to have been heard within the halls of Nazarick for some time.

Lumière was immediately beside her, a small delicate napkin proffered. Sycorax took it and scrubbed her chin with the vigour of a young child and an exclamation of delight.

“Ah. One of the Faery races.” Momonga steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair. “That looks good,” he added.

“It is. My compliments are with your _pâtissier_.”

Lumière blushed, promising to deliver the kind words of the Supreme Beings to the Head Maid at first opportunity.

“How do they taste?”

Sycorax pondered it, taking another bite. “Sweet, with a give on the bite. The jam’s made with real fruit – Alfheimr Hautbois, eh? Are you sure you should be serving fruits like these?”

“I had took many of them,” Momonga acknowledged. “Fruits are best served fresh, when we can.”

“On that we are in relative agreement, except that I have a _brigade de cuisine_ to deal with all of that ship-side,” Sycorax chewed down thoughtfully on the remnants of the doughnut. “You know,” she thought aloud, “I was once told by Surimi that if you concentrated hard enough, you could- _trick_ yourself into tasting food. I was so excited, got a whole set of preserves to try and a Samovar for hot water and I was going to have tea with Kladenets. He’s Russian, and a few hundred years ago they’d do that – boil concentrated black tea, set up a _samovar_ , and have tea with jam.”

“Erm... everything tastes like... nothing.”

“My point exactly,” Sycorax gave a woebegone look, which cleared as a large teapot of white interlaced with silver was presented before her, along with its attendant teacup and saucer. “I do not know how they did it, but the shitty devs managed to selectively screw up my sense of taste inside- you know.”

Silence reigned as she poured out the tea and absently inhaled its scent, before taking a sip with a distinct gloom. “So, maps – of the site, and then to use「Compass Rose」, set up a base-building item, and... well, map out the environs, I suspect. You and I are men of business – well, man and woman. Have you reviewed the contract?”

“Albedo and Demiurge are still pondering about the clauses within.” Momonga nodded. “I understand your hesitations about cosigning Guild property over – Nereus was fairly strident about the cartography clause.”

“I told him to be. Not that I don’t trust you, Momonga-san, but I’ll bet on my cartography and navigation any day.”

“I bow to your wisdom, and the fact that you have managed to divine our location within hours of talking with nothing but your wits and some first-class talking.” Momonga nodded. “Also, there is one clause I would like to emphasise on now. The interaction one. I cannot think that all our interactions would be as easily facilitated as ours. Shalltear nearly took off Nereus’ head.”

Sycorax hummed. A splotch of jam nearly made a permanent imprint on the white napkin, but for the pirate’s intervention with a nearby plate. “I’ll talk to him about that during the site survey. However... I might have caused you a bit of trouble.”

“Oh?”

Sycorax sighed, contemplating the amber liquid in her teacup. “See, I’ve been calling on them in their respective floors... and I started with Demiurge.”

* * *

Having passed through the Teleport Gate that bypassed the eighth floor, Sycorax now set out to build connections with the rest of the Nazarick Guardians. Moving on foot was technically unnecessary since her recent possession of a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, but Sycorax was still schooled enough in the field of Japanese manners to make the journey on foot with Nereus and Lumière trailing behind her.

From her deductions and Nereus’ informations, the prestige of Nazarick’s Floor Guardians, Area Guardians and maids depended on their claims of being creations of the guild members – and being technically a guild member now, she had turned from guest to one who ruled over them.

Having just made her plans, Sycorax wrote out a number of calling-cards for all subsequent meetings and sent Lumière to deliver them. At the appointed hour, she changed her clothes – _again_ – and made her way through the teleport gate which bypassed the eighth floor. The seventh floor of Nazarick was misnamed – it was a world whose air seemed aglow with red light. Crimson lava cut a swathe through scorched earth, and numerous bubbles in the current of melted rock burst as they reached the surface.

“Guess they suspended the damage-field area effect,” Nereus mildly observed.

The heat might have been turned down. However, this was not a place where the living could easily survive; the scorching air would easily strip throats and skin of their moisture in seconds. Even fresh sweat would instantly vaporise into steam. This place, so thoroughly inimical to the living, perfectly fitted the description of Christian Hell – or Avīci Hell, if Sycorax had to make a comparison.

Even so, many creatures lived here as part of the Great Tomb of Nazarick – for instance, demons, many of which had Fire resistance. The outlines of several demons were apparent in the smoke clouds that hung low and heavy in the air. In addition, there were Mephits, corrupted spirits of fire, hovering around. Further in, Undead with very strong Fire resistance dotted the landscape.

Sycorax followed the course of the lava river, walking along the path that ran over a dam. Every now and then, the gigantic, writhing creature within it gave a _bloop_ , seemed to lose interest, and left.

“Abyssal Slime noted,” Nereus muttered.

“Can you kill it?” Sycorax murmured to him.

“I’ll need a weapon with Water-type damage buffs,” Nereus assessed. As a creature optimized for combat, its fighting ability was easily on par with himself. Were he an enemy, he would have been dragged into the burning river of level by its tentacles and attacked by a virtually invisible opponent that did not need to breathe and could hide its body in the lava. “This is the Demon with the specs, right?”

“If you mean Demiurge, then yes.” Sycorax rolled her eyes at his antics. The giant slime, Guren, was a far more dangerous opponent than this floor’s Guardian, but Demiurge was still a Floor Guardian of Nazarick. “How did you offend him this time?”

“I may have offered a drink, insinuated something about his shape-shifting ability, and licked his face.”

“As a man?”

“As a horse.”

Sycorax rested her right palm on her face as they continued, a cluster of randomly-strewn white columns drifting into view ahead. It might have been a majestic Greek-style temple once, but the columns were scattered like they had been in violent collision, and the statues of various gods were smashed and scattered. The heavy roof-ceiling had fallen down, its pieces were lodged in the ground. Truly a warzone. Desolation permeated the entire scene.

Evil Lords, Demons that were around level 80, hung around the steps and the ruins. Their eyes focused on the retinue – a natural reaction, given their appearance. However, they were still able to discern that the Nagini before them was an existence far above their own, so they did not indulge the basic demonic instinct to make others suffer.

All of them rested their foreheads to the ground as one. “The denizens of the seventh floor of Nazarick pay their respects to the Supreme Beings.”

A Demon stepped forward. It wore a dirty white hood that concealed its features. Its body was twisted and lumpy, and it looked otherworldly, capable of corrupting humans into equally demonic beings with a few words. A large golden pendant hung around its neck, inscribed with what seemed like letters.

“This humble Imp presents himself to the Supreme Being Sycorax. If you would be so gracious as to follow me, Lord Demiurge has awaited your... ascent.”

Sycorax wordlessly followed. After passing through the desecrated temple, a pale white throne greeted her from atop the uneven, slightly lumpy ground. Demiurge arose from the throne and stepped forward.

Demiurge then went to one knee in a graceful descent, as though expressing his heart through his actions. “The Guardian of the seventh Floor, Demiurge, present himself to the Supreme Being, Sycorax.”

Sycorax chose her words very carefully. “Thank you, Demiurge. Dispense with formality. I need to ask you something.”

Demiurge slowly rose to his feet. “As you command, my lady. Just over three hours before, someone passed through the seventh floor. Would that be yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Yo!” Nereus greeted.

Demiurge’s smile dropped. “You have brought _him_ along, Sycorax-sama.”

“He is the Commander of the First Division. It cannot be helped. As commander of Nazarick’s overall defences, you will be meeting my chief assassin and combat diver often.”

Demiurge’s frown deepened. “I see. If that is Sycorax-sama’s intention... Well then… I believe I can coordinate with any other Guardian in order to accomplish the objectives. However, I consider myself something of a jack of all trades, so during combat, I doubt I could work very well with... Nereus.”

“Once the site of our stone frigate is decided, and 「Compass Rose」 is cast, the Fleet’s commanders will have to rendezvous with your Guardians,” Sycorax shrugged. “Unless you don’t work well with people?”

“I understand,” Demiurge accepted placidly, though his eyes narrowed. “I feel that I would work best when partnered with a melee fighter – Cocytus, for one – but as I mentioned, even if I were unable to get along with any of the Guardians, if Ainz-sama willed it, I would match my abilities... indeed, even though I am ever-incompatible with Sebas, I doubt he would take any actions that ran counter to Ainz-sama’s dictates.”

“How strange,” Sycorax exclaimed. “I have spoken with a few of you, but this is the first time anyone outright commented on their preferences.”

Demiurge inclined his head in acknowledgement. Both of them stared at each other – almost in _en garde_ position.

“That speaks well about your _honesty_ ,” Sycorax commented aloud. Privately, she thought that the man before her was a lying demons who tortured sentient beings and harvested their skins in all manner of cruelty – truly a literal Demon she needed to keep her guard up against. “You see, I am asking you in regards to Nazarick’s... future stability.”

“Oh?”

“Yes... I want grandchildren, but Momonga is a bag of bones without the necessary equipment at the moment.”

“―I think this is the first time anyone has stated the problem like such,” Demiurge allowed. “But why have you come to me?”

“If anything were to happen, I would be the last Supreme Being left,” Sycorax archly replied. “Same applies if anything were to happen to me.”

“...I see,” Demiurge pushed the bridge of his pince-nez spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “All great leaders require a successor.”

“I was thinking more of a companion,” Sycorax insisted. “See, he’s an Elder Lich, so he’ll live far longer without ageing. I don’t want him to get lonely... if something were to happen.”

“You are very generous, milady,” Demiurge promptly replied. “So you would elect a... consort? She will have to be of sufficient status.”

“He or she,” Sycorax insisted. “My Fleet recognises open marriages.”

“For the purposes of an heir with the requisite blood, we must assume that the consort will be female, milady,” Demiurge sighed. “Albedo and Shalltear are the strongest contenders.”

“...”

Demiurge grew increasingly aware of her emerald stare directed towards him. “Was I wrong?”

“If we talk about the requisite blood,” Sycorax mulled, “then there is a difference between the Original Nine and the later members of Ainz Ooal Gown.”

“The Original Nine?” Demiurge repeated.

“I mean- argh, that’s long ago,” Sycorax shook her head. “I wanted to hear your thoughts about... suitable candidates.”

“...it would have to be within Nazarick, if Sycorax-sama does not consent.”

Sycorax nodded. “Go on.”

“...in terms of reproduction, Shalltear is an Undead,” Demiurge elaborated, confident about his purpose of being granted an audience with the holy of holies that were the Supreme Beings. “In terms of raw power, Albedo cannot quite compare. The Original Nine...”

“...from forty-one, first were nine,” Sycorax spoke, as if recalling a memory. “Nine’s Own Goal, that was their name. Over time, the name changed, and today you know its form, Demiurge.”

Some magical quality seemed to seize her. She was at once ethereal, and far too real to be anything else. The green of her eye was flecked with gold, and in her black dress and black pearls, she made an impression upon Demiurge. Awe seized his heart – this was one of the Supreme Beings! This was untold history of the Supreme Beings!

“Of course, that’s a moot point,” Sycorax considered. “But if it were, then Aura would have the best claim.”

“Aura? Aura Bella Fiora?” Demiurge repeated.

“Yes?” Sycorax blinked. “Bukubukuchagama was one of the Original Nine, and a Dark Elf is more likely to procreate, if you were into those things. But if I had to give a preference...”

* * *

“And,” Sycorax rounded up, “this was how I ended up throwing in my lot for a possible queen consort.”

A ring-encrusted hand slapped the high ridge of his skeletal brow. “Sycorax-san,” Momonga complained.

“...oops?”


	30. XXIX: Broad Reach

 

“There was a reason why I chose such a topic.”

“Are you sure it’s not just to make trouble for me?” Ainz rebutted.

Breakfast had been cleared away, and today Ainz was confronted with the multitude of maps that covered the places which Sycorax had travelled through on her sojourn through the Baharuth Empire. All the maps and locations were appended with notes – and some pictures, either made with 「Camera Obscura」 or a cash item where appropriate and needed for the purposes of definition. Ainz and Sycorax were talking as she laid out the notes for the maps amassed by his own subordinates, her writing strong and blocky for the purposes of printing. Her hair hung loose today.

Sycorax held up her hands together in an unfamiliar gesture. “「Snake Hair Possession」.”

Her hair moved – animated by magic, they reached out to grab multiple quills, pens and rulers.

“Draw a grid.” A fountain pen and a ruler were duly delegated to a stack of pre-cut sheets of paper. “List of places.” Another pen was delegated. “Draw out 「Shorthand」.” A pair of separate locks took the shape of hands and started to carefully cut a sheet of paper into little strips for later use.

Ainz waited. “Well?”

“Positive,” Sycorax nodded. “The presence of designating an heir outlines a succession, a transfer of leadership in the future, and in human terms, the continued stability of a dynasty. Forgive my blunt words, but you are an Elder Lich – the usual causes of death for a monarch explicitly don’t apply to you. Being outside of mortality eliminates any need for you to care about newer generations, let alone surrender or share power with them.”

“That’s true...” Ainz nodded. “Michiru-san... your Fleet could traverse the world, right? If you came here alone, without any of your creations or your Fleet... what would you do?”

“I?” Sycorax looked up. “I’d... I’d set up camp, try to find navigation information, and then steal a boat and set out to sea. I’d do the same with or without my Fleet. After all, I designed the guild quarters as a Fleet for a _reason_. What about Satoru-san? If you came here alone, without this Great Tomb of Nazarick...”

“...me? Umu, I think I’d travel,” his shoulders lifted in a shrug of answer. “I didn’t experience much of the great outdoors in the real world or YGGDRASIL, so it’s refreshing. And, since the body of an Undead doesn’t need nourishment or air, I could walk up mountains or down into the deep sea. I’d enjoy the unknown sights of this world like that.”

“I experienced too much of the real world.”

“Ah, Sycorax served in the war, right? Which part of Europe?”

“I was stationed around Turkey, watching the Dardanelles,” Sycorax recalled. “After the fighting broke out, I went to Barcelona, Montpellier, and Marseille. Too bad the front-lines shifted, and I had a posting to Nantes until it ended.”

“That’s a lot of places.”

“Not that many. Didn’t see much. Scandinavia was beautiful – I passed by Norway, and the scenery-” Sycorax made an agreeable noise, her green eye flashing. “D’you want to come along? My fleet will have to set out to locate our lost comrades.”

Despite not actually possessing world-class beauty, Sycorax could be said to be a handsome woman. Her strongest charm, the aura which had attracted crazy men and women alike to follow her, though, was not actually her physical features but the inexpressible romance she aroused in their hearts. It was more like a call to adventure – her very existence, her drive to reach to the ends of the horizon, made people curious and desiring to follow her to the very end. When she held her hand out, waiting in acceptance, it was more than simple charm magic, or a personal skill, or emotional manipulation.

Momonga’s skeletal hands reached to grasp hers, but then relaxed. “I thank you. But... someone must watch over the treasure of my comrades. And, someone must give you a home to return to, Michiru-san.”

“...are you still on about that?” Sycorax tilted her head, wary of disrupting the living locks of hair moving about their assigned tasks.

“Yes, but they are not of control.” Momonga noted. “I believe that you will survive and return to Nazarick, even if you were to leave. After all, time is on my side.”

Sycorax looked down, at the spread of charts and writings.

“The Gorgons, in YGGDRASIL lore, are an immortal race,” he continued. “The Nagaraj, upon attaining such a quest, also has a theoretically infinite lifespan. And, your special Othinus class would let you live long and youthful.”

“Satoru-san...”

“Yes?”

“The gods of Norse mythology can die,” Sycorax dully imparted, no longer smiling. “And so can the deathless. So, be _careful_. That is the best thing to be.”

“...yes.”

Sycorax broke into a big smile. “With that said, I’ll be going out for a picnic, okay~?”

“Sycorax-san, please be more serious...”

* * *

It was a house made from wood. There were no decorations, the wooden structure was plain to see and the design was plain. The ceiling was five meters from the floor, while the length and breadth were more than twenty meters either way. There were almost no furniture inside, just a giant mirror on the wall, a huge and sturdy table as well as the chairs around it. Several people were seated on the chairs, and parchments rolled into scrolls were placed on the table before them – scrolls imbued with magic. At the head of the table, someone had parked a throne upon which Sycorax sat to survey the operations of this... forward base of Nazarick’s front lines. If going to kill Lizardmen for no other reason than was commanded was a good way to describe military operations.

“These are the last set. These are teleportation scrolls,” the loud voice of a young girl supplied as another scroll was placed on the table.

The one who took out the scrolls was a human-shaped female. She had a cute face, with her violet hair tied up into buns on either side of her head. A distinct aura cloaked her being, and her most distinctive feature was her eyes – big and round, but without light in them, like low-grade glass balls, and she never blinked. Her petite body was covered by a modified maid costume, with propped collars covering her neck completely. Aside from her face, she didn’t show any skin at all.

She was one of the Pleiades battle maids, Entoma Vasilissa Zeta.

“This is the ‘Message’ scroll, but there are a lot. Sycorax-sama made them personally, so be careful. Could someone please tidy up the table?”

The one occupying the next seat of honour nodded slowly. “Tidy it up.”

“Alright~ please clean it up quickly then.”

With Cocytus’ acknowledgement and Entoma’s instruction, the figures surrounding the table started working together. They were all grotesque monsters – some had the form of praying mantises; some looked like ants; there were even those that seemed like an exposed brain.

They might all appear different, but they had two common points: first, they were all servants of Cocytus in the Glacier realm of Nazarick, and second, they belonged to the organisation called the Great Tomb of Nazarick. They obeyed the command of Entoma who was weaker than them, because she was of a higher position than them; in the power structure of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the most important thing was the fact that one was a creation of the Supreme Beings, not combat power. From this point of view, Entoma had a high level of authority.

Of course, that was irrelevant when faced with one acknowledged as a Supreme Being, so Entoma and Cocytus in turn bowed to Sycorax next.

“Sycorax-sama, welcome to our temporary camp. We apologise for the poor accommodations-”

“I understand. Think nothing of it. Good job,” Sycorax cautiously began. “Cocytus... was it? The creation of Warrior Takemikazuchi.”

“Yes!” Cocytus bowed lower at the mention of his creator’s name.

“He made an extremely powerful DPS combination move... he would have high hopes for you.”

Cocytus immediately felt better. “Thank you for your high praise, milady!”

Sycorax nodded, pulling out a bag from her Item Box to dump another ream of scrolls on the table. “These Message scrolls were crafted from the... skins that Demiurge obtained. If there are any problems in usage, report to me immediately. I will stake my pride as a master Scribe to fix it.”

“Yes!” Cocytus used one of his four hands to pick up several of the scrolls. “I will do so without fail, Sycorax-sama. But... forgive me for asking, why is one of the illustrious Supreme Beings... here?”

“I’m bored and I want to see how you fare,” Sycorax replied, with an edge to her words. “That bastard Nereus left me here to survey the bloody lake with entreaties not to move from my _watchers_. Like I even need watchers, _pfft_. Cocytus, Entoma, don’t you think he’s being rude?!”

The Floor Guardian and the combat maid exchanged glances, though it was not immediately apparent from their insectoid faces. The idea of leaving a Supreme Being out of sight was, to these devoted servants and creations, mildly terrifying – who knew where she would disappear? How would they explain to Ainz-sama?! If she disappeared... would their lord and master-

“Sycorax-sama!” The tension between them was shattered by the sudden exclamation from the room’s new entrant – Aura Bella Fiore, one of the twin Floor Guardians of the Sixth floor. “Er- the Head Maid said that you... wanted to have a picnic with me and Mare once it’s break time... oh, my manners! The Guardian of the Sixth Floor, Aura Bella Fiora, presents herself to the Mistress!”

“A- Also the Guardian of the Sixth Floor, Mare Bello Fiore, presents himself to the Mistress!” Aura’s brother caught up to his sister, panting as he sank to his knees in following Aura’s obeisance.

“Dispense with the formalities, please!” Sycorax helped them up to their feet together. “I never hear from Kaze-chin that often. Her children are just as cute as I thought!” Sycorax bent her body forward to meet Aura’s eye level as she spoke.

“K- Kaze-chin?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t know that name...” Sycorax’s hand stroked Aura’s cheek, the pirate smiling kindly down to her. “Everyone’s idol, Bukubukuchagama-san. Her love created the two of you... am I right?”

“Y- Yes...!” Aura blushed slightly at the contact. As Aura sighed, a sweet scent filled the surrounding air, somewhat persistent despite hanging passively about.

Cocytus huffed, and a vent of cold air had the Nagini shuddering away from the Dark Elf. “Aura. Remember. Your. Abilities.”

“Ah, sorry!” Aura hurriedly dispersed the scent with her hand.

“No, the fault is mine...” Sycorax sighed. Amongst Aura’s skills as a Beast Tamer, there were certain passive skills that had buffing and debuffing effects. These skills acted mainly through her breath, with an effective radius of several meters – some even up to ten meters. Under other skills, that radius could be enlarged to incredible proportions. Those same skills could also be dampened if Sycorax had applied a buff beforehand, or prior notice.

“There’s no way to tell, eh...” she muttered to herself. In YGGDRASIL, icons representing buffs and debuffs would appear in a player’s field of vision, so that they could see if they were under the effect of an ability. However, no indication had appeared, which made things quite troublesome.

Aura floundered. “It’s fine now, it’s no longer in effect!”

“Is that so...” Sycorax considered. “Was I within the effective radius?”

“Mm...” Aura wilted in fear with Mare beside her.

“…I’m not angry,” Sycorax stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. “I was simply asking, was I within the effective range of your skill?”

“Uh... yes! Yes, Sycorax-sama was within the range of my skill.”

“And what was the effect supposed to be?” Sycorax fidgeted, a motion that went undetected under the baggy pearl-grey tunic she wore, belted with the Nine Snakes Belt.

“About that, the effect just now... should have been fear.”

Sycorax pulled at the front of her tunic. “Hmm. I keep telling him to be careful, but I’m being careless myself... must’ve gotten mixed up.”

“I’m so sorry, Sycorax-sama!”

“Don’t worry, it’s a minor inconvenience,” Sycorax bestowed a benevolent smile as she pulled the tunic straight. “My 「Fearless」 ability kicked in with an inappropriate physiological response, I’ll just wait for it to subside. Mare is cute too!”

“Yes!” Mare brightened at the acknowledgement.

Sycorax turned her head in bare acknowledgement. “Will Cocytus be joining us today?”

The hulking Guardian vented a spurt of cold air. “I. Must. Begin. Preparations. For. The. Assault. My. Deepest. Apologies.”

The green eye burned. “Are you sure?”

“...I. Am. Entrusted. This. Task. By. Ainz-sama.”

Her gaze fell, as she whispered: “Alright... but you’re going to fail, you know.” Her back turned, and her voice rose: “So, what did Head Maid Pestonya make?”

For Cocytus, whose duty was to guard Nazarick... the recent missions had left him out, so he couldn’t do anything. His comrades completed their assigned tasks – Cocytus should be happy, and he actually is, but the fire of jealousy in his heart could not be completely suppressed. For his colleagues, even others, to be of use to the masters they adored made him envious.

His purpose was to defend Nazarick. This important task probably superseded any orders received by the other Guardians – no matter who you asked, they would answer that this was crucial, and that they had to keep lowly ones from desecrating the residence of the Supreme Beings.

Without invaders, though, there was no way to prove Cocytus’ loyalty and hard work.

That chance was right before him now.

Cocytus turned his head and looked at the scene reflected in the mirror, and tightened his grip on its frame. What was shown wasn’t indoors, but a location somewhere in the wetlands. This Mirror of Remote Viewing was the reason why Cocytus was holed up for two days in this wooden house built by Aura.; to conduct surveillance.

The battle this time—

No. Portents meant nothing. In the face of the Great Tomb of Nazarick and its absolute strength, it would be a one-sided slaughter, so it was just collecting carcasses.

Cocytus was prohibited from taking to the field; this ban included his servants. The issue had to be solved with the troops that were allocated. The Lich assigned as the commander was to be held in reserve until the last moment. The mission would be decided by his judgement alone. There were some other minute details, but the main points were these three – and, with a sudden change, the presence of a Supreme Being to witness Cocytus’ glorious loyalty being presented to add to his master and new mistress.

“Thank you for your hard work. Please relay my thanks to Ainz-sama.”

Entoma nodded weakly.

“Will. You. Be. Returning. To. Nazarick?”

“I received orders to witness the battle here until the very end.” Entoma’s head tilted. “And... Aura-sama and Mare-sama are present, but Lady Sycorax... a male Supreme Being and a female Supreme Being are the only ones left. Even though the Lady has only recently ascended...”

“I. Understand.” Cocytus concluded with the gravitas of heavy responsibility bestowed on him. Cocytus activated the 「Message」, and issued an order to the undead commander.

“—Advance.”

* * *

The Head Maid herself was waiting by a rough picnic table, which looked to have been only recently constructed. The table itself was laid out with dishes covered with silver lids and appropriate placings with cutlery. An Imp was relegated to hold up a giant umbrella against the noon shade – it made a comical sight, a thirty-centimetre creature hugging a Japanese traditional oil-paper umbrella. Concentric circles of green and white could be noted on the umbrella’s pattern behind the rainbow lattice holding up its frame – a _janomegasa_. 1

“Um...” Sycorax stared at the Imp.

“Ainz-sama mandated that we take precautions against the noon shade for Sycorax-sama, Aura-sama and Mare-sama,” Pestonya replied. “Demiurge-sama volunteered this Imp as our umbrella-holder on pain of death before leaving on his business. We would gladly sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the Supreme Beings.”

Sycorax privately thought that the Imp did not look very satisfied, but had no chance to say anything as the Imp squeaked its own obeisance to the Supreme Beings. She sat.

“Time to eat, time to eat~” Aura clapped her hands. Aura and Mare took the seats opposite of Sycorax.

Pestonya lifted each dish, speaking at the same time: “Today’s lunch menu is composed of three courses, in acknowledgement of the picnic and outdoors nature of the meal. The appetizer is boiled vegetarian _gyōza_. The main course is a three-layer meat pie of lamb, beef and pork with green pepper filling. The meal will be rounded off by a drink of fresh milk with Arabica coffee jelly.”

“Meat, vegetables, and later dessert...” Sycorax mused. “You spoil me, Pestonya.”

“I live to please the Supreme Beings,” Pestonya bowed. “I am afraid that no beneficial effect is bestowed by this food, milady, so it would only stave off hunger.”

“I eat the same as the ratings back home,” Sycorax laughed. “This is probably Momonga’s desire to cram me full of sweets before I go back to spicy naval curry.”

Aura and Mare fell silent, the only noise to be heard being the clink of chopsticks on porcelain. “Aura, Mare?”

“Sycorax-sama... you eat the same food as your... servants?”

She frowned at the sudden change in tone. “The sea is a harsh mistress. Bread, water, cheese, meat, space... everything must be packed to consider long voyages out of reach from hospitable land. Magic can only go so far to help us against the seas and the storms.”

“But... the Rings of Sustenance,” Mare hissed.

“Some wear them, some are Undead and don’t need them,” Sycorax nodded. “And so? I am Fleet Admiral, but I too am a woman of the sea. If I cannot help my men, then I must suffer alongside them. That is my responsibility as captain and admiral.”

The picnic passed very nicely. Clouds drew off the worst of the sun’s rays, and before long the break in routine was concluded with a round of stories. In exchange for Aura and Mare’s recollection of the last raid of 1,500 players on Nazarick, Sycorax imparted her recollection of Bukubukuchagama from the last time she saw the Unsinkable Mucous Shield fight.

“So then Nurarihyon’s sword flew straight into a 「Wall of Jericho」-” Sycorax broke off as a war horn began to sound in the distance. “I say, that’s just rude. Wonder what they’re squalling about?”

* * *

_**1 Japanese: ‘eye of a snake’ umbrella – a specific pattern of Japanese traditional umbrella.** _


	31. XXX: Boom Vang

“Demiurge.”

Right as Sycorax was lunching with the twin Guardians of the Sixth Floor, the overall commander of Nazarick’s defences had stood ramrod straight before his audience with the Overlord. “Ainz-sama. You summoned me?”

“Umu, yes,” the Overlord, swathed in black and blue today, drummed a tattoo. “I hear that Sycorax-san is occupying Cocytus’ and your current drinking place.”

“If vacating Sous-chef’s domain would bring Lady Sycorax pleasure, then that is a worthy sacrifice.”

“That is what I wish to hear your opinion upon,” Momonga demurred. “I am sure that you believe my decision to... be rather abrupt.”

“I would not dare to presume, Ainz-sama,” Demiurge confidently stated. “Indeed, with your declaration, it seems as though we already recognise Sycorax-sama as a Supreme Being.”

 _Of course,_ Momonga sighed internally. _I guess this already makes her a member..._

Technically, under YGGDRASIL there were no limits to how many guilds a player could join. After all, a guild was the safety net which protects players from constant harassment, and allows them time to gain more experience and knowledge. Entry into a guild, although theoretically made by majority vote in Ainz Ooal Gown, really only required the Guildmaster’s say-so. This system allowed guilds, like Three Burning Eyes, to induct spies to other guilds in order to steal information – a player could join as long as the Guildmaster approved it, so there was really only one person to convince.

This had the side-effect of creating guilds which were more like coteries ‘carried’ by one person – the Guildmaster. None of those guilds ever got to the top 100, though, so they were of little matter.

“Sycorax-san is important to Nazarick,” Ainz finally deigned to say. “She will be treated as I am treated. Do I have your assurance of that fact, Demiurge?”

“Yes, Ainz-sama. I will lay down my life for Sycorax-sama as I would for you.”

“Very good.” Ainz considered. “Such loyalty is admirable.”

Demiurge swallowed in the face of his master’s unreadable tone. “Ah, Ainz-sama... as you wish. But, you have given her so much-”

“She has also benefited Nazarick much, in the past and in the present,” Ainz stood up. “I cannot benefit much from Nazarick’s luxuries, nor can I accurately gauge their standards. Sycorax-san would have more fun like this, and I care for her well-being. I suppose... this is my repayment.”

Well, that was that. An Undead could not really benefit much from pampering – a living being, though, would be more receptive to needs and wants. Since it looked like Ainz-sama was wholeheartedly devoted to caring for Sycorax-sama for some unfathomable reason – service? Demiurge mused – then Demiurge would indeed do everything to help his master.

“The sun is strong today,” Ainz continued. “I understand that you are occupied, but could you send someone with an umbrella to Sycorax-san? I fear that she forgot. She’s so excitable.”

* * *

The Imp surveyed the area with his eyes opened wide. A lack of its target immediately sent it into a frenzy; the Arch-Demon had ordered it to bear that portable structure to shield the Great One from the strong heat. On pain of being dismembered, it had done so, but the two Dark Elves had left and the Ice General was preoccupied and the Great One... Great One...

“I need to find a Guardian!”

Mare started in surprise as an Imp alighted before him. “Oh, Imp-san, hello-”

“The Great One... the Great One is leaving camp! There is no one on hand!”

The staff that Mare held embedded itself into a nearby tree. That was slightly inaccurate – rather, Mare had embedded his own weapon into the tree. “...yes?”

“The Great One... took the umbrella...” the Imp wheezed. “Leaving camp...”

“Without telling anyone?” Mare frowned. “Why are you here then?! Your life is worthless if any harm were to-!”

“Master Mare, I’m just an Imp! I thought... stronger bodyguards...”

The staff, the precious Divine-class Shadow of Yggdrasil, was yanked out with Mare’s brute force as he began to pace around. “Ah, what do we do, what do we do- Demiurge, maybe Demiurge would know...!”

The Arch-Demon in question had been preoccupied, humming while he worked. The polished bone he had been working on was perfectly placed. What Demiurge was doing should be ‘precision bone joint’ – making things from bone without using glue or nails. It was the sort of carpentry that could only add to the ‘hell world’ which Demons like him so enjoyed-

『I- Is this Demiurge?』

Demiurge stopped. “Yes, Mare. For you to message me, has something happened?”

『Yes... Sycorax-sama has left camp, apparently without an escort. Your umbrella-bearer came to me to ask for help-』

The bone house Demiurge had been building was crushed under his claw. “Excuse me?! That stupid Imp... well, that was the best thing I could hope from the minor Imps.”

『W- What should I do? I- I don’t have any Divination spells...』

“Calm down, Mare.” Demiurge considered. “First, get your sister to use Fenrir to track down Sycorax-sama. The Imp will lead you to her last known location. From there, we should be able to track her quite reliably by scent. Sycorax-sama is... of an excitable nature, she simply forgot. I will come.”

Breaking off the message, Demiurge raised his hand after notifying the relevant staff of his sudden need to vacate the Great Tomb. With this done, he raised his hand.

“「Greater Teleportation」!”

The spell took effect, sending Demiurge from inside to outside of Nazarick in a flash. Without regard for the brief period of vulnerability, Demiurge threw himself into a dead run, taking to the skies in his half-demon form, with a pair of large, black, leathery wings growing from his back and the face of a frog. With the bird’s eye view granted by his form, he found his target amidst the forest shrubbery and dropped down, making a three-point landing.

“Demiurge!” Mare exclaimed, the knob end of his staff aglow with magic. “She’s at the lake, but...”

“But?” Demiurge demanded.

“Cocytus has started his assault on the Lizardmen, and that’s the battlefield, so none from Nazarick can-”

“Those orders-!” Demiurge hissed, the most flustered he had been since the Great Invasion of Nazarick. “The safety of one of the Supreme Beings must be guaranteed before anything else! If- If- If we can’t even guarantee the safety of one person... what would Ainz-sama say? What would my creator say? Nazarick’s reputation will not be fouled like this! Mare, start a gridlock search. Tell Aura to check the forest. I’ll take the lake.”

“Yes!” Mare immediately got to work, directing and commanding Elder Liches and Imps and Golems. Demiurge flew again, higher and higher until everything – from the forest to the lake to the cusp where the ground rose into the Azerlisia Mountains – was visible to him.

Save for the battlefield. Dust and water swept up into the air, a mass of bodies in wetland covered in trees, thick and too dense to search.

Demiurge frantically began a spell. “Cocytus, it’s Demiurge. My apologies for disrupting your plans, but...” he swallowed. “Sycorax-sama is lost somewhere in there. Yes. I fear that we cannot fully keep to Ainz-sama’s mission objectives now... yes, of course, I will attempt to locate her.”

The next spell took effect.

“Albedo...”

* * *

The newly dominated Tob Forest was full of silence, every living being was afraid of the king’s gaze and held their breath. Only near the construction sites of Nazarick’s front-line outpost and the designated storage warehouse, would there be the sounds of lumbering and voices from Imps and Undead – Golems had no voices.

It was here that a site had been marked out. Plans had been sketched, and an Imp trembled as the transformed Kelpie commander of the Fleet accepted them for a look.

“The terrain... the positions of the mountains and rivers...” Nereus looked at the checklist that had been compiled. “This site. It must be this site.”

A lake-house, with the lake on one side, backed by a hill.

At this point, Nereus handed back the plans with an entreaty and dove into the water. A heartbeat later, a dark ungulate form rose, its moss-grey mane dripping with silty earth. The water-horse changed back into Nereus fluidly.

“Eh,” Nereus sighed, getting back up. “Rivers and rapids. We could make a river port here.”

The terrain of a fleet would always be restricted to water and air. Unlike Nazarick, the Fomori commanded greater mobility and flow, but the sticking point of their defences was always that the open ocean also left them nowhere to hide, and few ways to advance onto land. The chief worry of the Admiral had been the possibility of a connection of the Lisia River, which cut across the Baharuth Empire – to the Great Lake that bordered Nazarick’s claimed land and the Lizardman tribes. Connecting trade routes, the possibility an empire connected by wind and water – such was the Admiral’s imagination.

Were this site a failure, then its importance in the list of stone frigates would have dropped as well. It was a partial failure – Nereus could taste the rapids and their direction of origin – but it also hinted to more waterways within the Mountains.

“We’ll have to go up the Mountains,” Nereus mumbled. “The Admiral will have to dress warmly. So...”

Nereus tossed a scroll into the air. It unfurled, and the eight-point Rose of the Winds glowed as it burnt in mid-air, casting its inscribed magic. Points along the Lisia River sparkled with the Compass Rose, connecting the magical network of portals together across the terrain of the Baharuth Empire.

A shadow emerged from the ground. Slowly, it shifted form into the shape of a door. The door slammed opened with preternatural force, and with it came Nagato.

At the same time, a war horn began to sound...

* * *

“I wish I could get lost,” Sycorax sighed halfway through her walk into the wetlands.

Although her character was designed as a free-wheeling pirate at conception, Sycorax paradoxically had the best navigational skills it was possible for a non-Magic Caster class build to have, with her Scribe and Magic Scribe classes filled with cartographic and navigational skills. Wants had given way to needs and later a private joke – that the character who seemed to be the most airheaded was actually the most level-headed of the hot mess that was Hostis Humani Generis.

By dead reckoning, Sycorax could vaguely place herself about ten kilometres south of Nazarick. Finer calculations would have had to be done on-site, or with any number of transportation spells:「Fly」or any 「Teleportation」, or even a hurriedly composed magical circle for 「Gate」if she was really in a hurry.

“After I left Aura and Mare, I wandered around, left camp to explore this forest, and now I can’t find anyone.” Sycorax’s shoulders drooped.

“I’m bored.”

The entity of ‘Sycorax’ was Kaiō Michiru’s desire made manifest. From a staid military to a wild pirate, from land-bound to roaming the seven seas – both prone to wandering when left to her own devices. A lifetime of war and work had left barely any time for games until dotage.

A war horn echoed. Climbing up a tree with help from her long tail, Sycorax started to investigate.

“Oh, the Lizardmen!”

Using guerilla tactics and throwing rocks at skeletons, the hunters were luring the zombies slowly away from the skeletons. More Lizardmen were flanking the skeletons.

“Okay, need more commanders, a bird’s eye view, archers and cavalry aren’t supporting the infantry... terrible deployment of Undead,” Sycorax marked. “「Summon: Huginn」. 「Summon: Muninn」. Take to the skies.”

Both giant red birds flew overhead, and then Sycorax whispered: “「Slave Sight」.”

As a version of 「Undead Slave Sight」, using it on her more powerful crow familiars was possibly a waste. However, since Huginn and Muninn were both magical in nature, their intelligence and combat capability were far above ordinary snakes or the other creatures it was within her ability to summon. From their lines of sight, Sycorax had often gained scouting intelligence when there were no scouts in their parties.

With a bird’s eye view fed into her brain, Sycorax considered her options from the treetops. “And a group of Magic Casters... probably druids... doing a ritual. Break up the bloody ritual, Cocytus! Plus...”

Her visible eye narrowed by habit. The slaved sight took in a group of Lizardmen who were vaguely better dressed and armed than the average Lizardman, complete with one very strange sword. Its blade glowed dimly in blue and white. The shape was a bit peculiar: the blade and the handle were integrated, resembling a three-pronged fork. Starting from the grip, it became increasingly thinner, tapering to a sharp edge at the tip of the blade.

“Special weapon – zoom out.” Sycorax tutted as she noted the lack of scouts around. A quick ream of scrolls later, she established safely that there were no surveillance magics aside from her own about. “Loads of traps – and why is there cavalry? Are the horses even able to run smoothly?”

As a navy woman, Kaiō Michiru had been witness to the power of aerial bombardments and artillery. For her, watching Nazarick’s skeleton riders fall to hidden traps was just embarrassing.

“The ritual is-” Sycorax cut off as the wetlands suddenly swelled up. Two conical masses of earth appeared, each about a short man’s height, with no head or limbs. The two masses started moving, their motions smooth despite the lack of limbs, heading straight for the new wave of Undead Beasts. Whips that were longer than its height emerged from where its shoulders should be once they closed the distance.

Sycorax yawned as she watched the two Swamp Elementals wreck Nazarick’s offensive. “Cocytus... he’s kinda average at this, isn’t he? Let’s stop this.”

Her mental catalogue of spells unfurled in her mind. Like a preset keyboard of decided macros, Sycorax visualised the spell and all of its requirements, calling upon her power as the piratical Sea Witch:

“「Control Weather」– torrential rain!”


	32. XXXI: By the board

****“ _Do you want to play a game?”_

* * *

Rain fell in torrents, a veritable cascade of stormy clouds that spattered against her face, bared midriff and armour and clothes. Her rigging, which consisted of a number of gun barrels protruding from a backpack-like formation of iron, almost like the arms of a giant protruding from her back.

The spires of her headgear beeped.

“Admiral, battleship Nagato reporting for duty,” she spoke aloud, careful and slow despite the fact that she was armed with an industrial magnitude that no human civilisation in the New World should have reached for the next few thousand years.

“「Ah, Nagato,」” the Fleet Admiral replied over the magic of Message, languid and unworried. “「I’m on the battlefield. Did you receive my order?」”

Nagato fairly vibrated in her position. “The proposed site for the stone frigate, henceforth to be christened _Cypress_ ,” she affirmed. “As recognition for this contribution to our enterprise, Momonga, also known as Ainz Ooal Gown, is hereby recognised as a probationary member in good standing of the guild, and thus welcome his elevation into our ranks with the ranking of Rear-Admiral. This recognition will remain unto perpetuity. Our current budget should be enough for a minor banquet, but I fear that Cutty Sark will complain.”

“「But we’re within budget, right?」”

A smile appeared on Nagato’s lips. It made her beautiful, for a spirit who was allegedly the artefact spirit of the hundred-year-old battleship sunk under Bikini Atoll. “Yes, we are. I heard that you’ve attained an umbrella?”

“「Ah, yes, it’s rather- oops.」”

“Fleet Admiral?”

“「Nothing, I’m just in combat at the moment- eat this!」”

There was a crack. Nagato ignored the cacophony of combat via telepathic connection, more occupied with unfurling a small scroll in her hand. The scroll glowed, its magic being unleashed to blink and fly towards the horizon.

“「Gate」.”

* * *

True to form, the silhouette of a snake’s eye umbrella stood out in the rain when Nagato arrived at the indicated spot. Sycorax stood underneath its canopy, holding it by its bamboo handle. Her other hand held a spear of delicate bone, with lines and glyphs composed of criss-crossing lines spiralling the length of its handle and even on the shaft of its blade.

   
**᚛ᚌᚙ ᚁᚑᚂᚌ᚜**  
 

“Battleship Nagato, reporting to the Fleet Admiral.” Nagato raised her hand in a textbook-perfect salute, while her Admiral had her back to the Quartermaster. “Congratulations on petrifying a Basilisk.”

“Nagato~” Sycorax sighed, turning around to ignore the Basilisk who had been dumb enough to attack a Gorgon, albeit one in semi-human guise. “Sorry, I got distracted~”

“Admiral would please have more care,” Nagato walked forward, taking the umbrella from the Admiral’s hand. “You must introduce the new Vice-Admiral to the Fleet.”

“Yes, yes. Will Nagato get wet?”

“Such paltry rain cannot damage me. I swear this as one of the Big Seven.” Nagato frowned. “Admiral has been away for a while.”

“I’ll be returning once 「Compass Rose」 is set up on the site,” Sycorax commented. “Say, d’you think we should invite Momonga back too?! We can have a big party to celebrate! Squelette can conduct the orchestra, the Dancing Skeletons can perform... what about Bonny and her sisters? Mary, Read, Celeste...”

“I believe Mary and Celeste are assigned to Treasury guarding this week,” Nagato imparted. “Furthermore, our purser is on duty this week as well.”

“Ah, I see. A little gift from me to Drake... what about the anchorage?”

“Nîmes and Pantaleone has been established. Merry is careening the _Totara_ and _Larch_ right now.”

“The supply ships?”

“Yes. The _Cedar_ and _Spruce_ had to be careened earlier, and the Navigation department are still working on their celestial map as well as current map, so the  _Queen of the Night_  must unfortunately be the last ship on the careening schedule. There is not a lot of careening to be done, since the hulls of the ships created by One Piece seem to hold especial antifouling properties.”

“Anti-fouling... because it’s ice?” Sycorax pondered, recalling the composition of most ships in the Fomori Fleet. So absorbed she was that the rushing of feet stepping through water was ignored.

Nagato’s back stiffened. “Admiral...”

“Salt does help to harden snow, but it’s used as a de-icer at temperatures about minus nine degrees Celsius...”

“Admiral...!”

“So the fact that pykrete is actually a feasible material to make ships with back then is actually quite remarkable-” Sycorax’s fist flew out. It impacted on a squat Lizardman’s head, breaking the club it was holding and punching a bloody hole into the scaly skin, depressing over its torso.

“-but not as remarkable as my 「Thunder Breaker」.” Sycorax finished by taking up her spear to stab with both hands at another scout. “Nagato, the other scouts.”

A blued-steel gun appeared in the white-dressed Quartermaster’s free hand, and three shots were fired. Coolly, the gun disappeared back into Nagato’s glove, allowing her to shift her grip on the umbrella.

“Hmm... radar does not detect any surveillance magics or other surveillance. Three hunters and two close-quarters... they must be a scouting party. Since the battle just finished, and in this weather... it is reasonable to assume that they were picking off stragglers. What should we do?”

Sycorax raised her hands. “Get to the highest point and use your radar to scout out the Lizardmen village. I’ll stay here. If I can use 「Einherjar」 on these corpses...”

Like the Valkyrie class, Sycorax’s Othinus class was capable of creating construct-type avatars visually similar to their targets. These avatars, the Einherjar in YGGDRASIL gameplay, could not use magic and other restricted skills, but held the same equipment and stats as their creator. Othinus went one step further – the Einherjar created did not have to be Sycorax herself, but any other melee-type fighter. For that reason alone, the Othinus class could be considered a world-class above special classes, rivalled only by the World Champions and the World Disasters.

“That would be an idea, Admiral,” Nagato murmured low. “They’re useless for information, but they cannot be left lying around. Then, if you would excuse me.”

Sycorax made a gesture as Nagato used a pendant to fly above the wetlands despite the rain.

“But it’s not convenient to bring corpses back... and I don’t want to explain to Momonga yet...” Sycorax snapped her fingers, invoking what mana she could while praying that the effort would still leave her a decent pool. “「Create Middle-Tier Snake: Montresor」.”

Snakes rose from the soaking wet earth. They dripped in mud, wrapping around the five individual corpses like chains. The chains weighed down more and more, smothering all the bodies until they had sunk back into the earth.

“With that done...” Sycorax sighed, pulling out her bone spear from her Item Box once again, fingering a steel ring and one side of a fan-shaped bivalve shell in her other hand. “The Black Knight who came to pick us up, will you show yourself now?”

A person clad in a suit of full-body demonic-looking black plate armour walked towards her from a copse of trees. It was covered in spikes and did not expose the slightest bit of flesh. Its clawed gauntlets grasped a black kite shield in one hand, and a bardiche radiated a sickly green glow in the other. A blood-red cape blew in the wind, while the doublet beneath was also the carmine of fresh blood, offsetting the black wings outstretched underneath.

“I apologise for my late arrival,” a melodic woman’s voice echoed from under the helmet.

“Albedo?” Sycorax stared at her. “Ah, thank you for coming out to find us. The rain really hampered visibility.”

“It is of little matter, Sycorax-sama. Ainz-sama worries for you.”

“You’re right.” Sycorax mused, slowly edging away from the black knight. “He’ll give us good food for free!”

“Free...” Albedo echoed. Her armoured grip tightened. “Yes...”

The bardiche swung.

It cut through a steel ring, and the slips of parchment holding them together loosened. The pieces of paper were scattered around like snow, black ink burning through them in cursive letters. They stuck into the cracks of Albedo’s helmet, onto her red doublet, and the joints and plates of her armour, Hermes Trismegistus.

“ 「Triplicate」. Naudiz. Isaz. Thurisaz. With all my talents...”

The flowering of paper glowed white as Sycorax scooted far away, taking advantage of her superior speed.

“...「Nith」!”

The tags exploded. Other nearby tags, having been inscribed with a magic detector as a detonator, began to go off as well. The air that touched the light was sucked in at extreme velocities. It was unknown what was distorted – light or gravity. All the matter that touched the light was sucked in and crushed by the pressure. Since everything was compressed in such a short time, from the outside, it looked like Albedo was being eaten by a large space. Her augmented stats were of no use against such direct, yet unfocused attacks.

Dazzled, with HP dwindling and defences working to keep her steady, Albedo wobbled. “...such a tiny attack... won’t destroy me. I am... a proud servant of Nazarick, Overseer of the Floor Guardians... eh?”

The rain pattered, spattering more mud onto her polished black armour.

Albedo howled, identifying the extremely visible trail of a snake which had cut through the wet mud. She took to the skies again, disregarding the heavy rain that poured from the heavens. Minutes of struggling and waiting as the gamut of damage-inducing status effects and slowing-status spells ran their course against Albedo’s superior constitution.

It took a while, before Albedo’s enhanced vision spotted an umbrella which now resembled a bullseye. Albedo gave a cackle of angry triumph as she dived, her bardiche aimed for where Sycorax’s head would have been.

The head that Albedo chopped at glowed, its skin radiating a pale white. The figure that was actually holding the umbrella resembled Sycorax, right down to the amused smirk it now directed towards Albedo.

It held the fan-shaped clamshell up. In the dim light and the rain, the shell resembled the wing of an angel. Then the Einherjar avatar slammed the shell into Albedo’s helmet and started wrapping its tail around her.

“Kuh!” Albedo slammed her wrists down on the coils that threatened her wings and legs. “「Aegis」! 「Wall of Jericho」!”

The Einherjar continued to suffer hits as she battered it with her bardiche and, eventually, her gauntleted hands. It would have cracked sooner, had Albedo not hit a magic shield which recoiled her hand.

“Increasing your defence at this rate won’t deal with the magical damage over time. But, I suppose you deserve that anyway, Albedo.”

Albedo stopped fighting. Even under the protection of the umbrella from the falling rain, her heart had cooled and her blood frozen. “A- Ah- Ah-”

“Did you know something called the Nine Rule?” the speaker went on, dripping in the rain from the run-off down the umbrella surface that splashed into his dark robes and bone-white countenance and covered the pinpricks of his eyes. “I didn’t know it until Sycorax-san explained it this morning, along with the esoteric knowledge of Runecraft that she kept hidden. See, you take three runes, and you repeat them three times, so that they mutually magnify each other’s effects nine times, for nine different meanings of each rune. So, she used three spells at once on you with the destruction of her Shorthand – an SOS signal, a status effect to slow you down, and a damage-over-time effect to distract you from the SOS marker.”

ᚾᚾᚾ

ᛁᛁᛁ

ᚦᚦᚦ

“I- I...” Albedo hung her head, lowering it towards the speaker. “A- Ainz-sama...”

Ainz Ooal Gown nodded as the Einherjar began to uncoil itself. “Attacking one of our own, my friend... Eight-Edge Assassins, take Albedo into Nazarick to be confined. I will handle this after settling my business at the cabin.”

The Guardian Overseer barely struggled. “A- Ainz-sama- I- I didn’t mean to-”

“Albedo.”

Ainz’s clipped tone sent shivers across all who were present. “We will discuss this when I return. Do not disgrace Nazarick any further.”

The invisible tails made themselves visible in the petering rain, having followed their master via 「Gate」.

* * *

“It’s your loss,” Sycorax told Ainz the moment he walked into the cabin. A fire had been started on a sunken hearth in the middle of the one room the cabin walls now surrounded. The smell of fresh timber still lingered as Sycorax’s whole body was curled around the fire.

Sycorax’s head rested on the lap of a young woman in a white top and skirt – far skimpier than Albedo’s dress, but for the plating around her midriff and the radio spires on her headband, and the sharp LED pinpricks in her red eyes as she stared at Ainz. Nereus paced some distance close, able to survey all points of entry and Aura, who lowered her face as Ainz beheld her.

Of course, normally returning to Nazarick was unquestionably safer. Without defensive magic, this cabin hastily constructed by Aura was like a house made of paper.

“My apologies Aura, for insisting on using this place. Do not mind the details, I admire this accomplishment. It is as good as Nazarick.”

Aura’s eyes slightly widened. “...Yes.”

“How is Mare?”

“Still examining the dirt walls and hills around Nazarick. This storm by Sycorax-sama was tidy enough, but it’s just to be safe.”

“Of course. Good work, Aura. Carry my word to Mare as well.”

“Yes, Ainz-sama!”

“Would you leave us alone for a moment?”

Aura went out. As she left, a servant Imp of hers held up an umbrella as well, the better to protect her from the rain. It seemed like a shallow gesture, but one that simply made clear that the denizens of Nazarick were as polite as they wished to be.

“I appreciate your call,” Ainz told Sycorax. “I would have preferred that you did not kill the overseer of the Guardians, and you didn’t. From your explanations, the Nine Rule-”

Blearily, Sycorax held up the free hand that was not currently acting as a pillow. “Not now, Satoru-san. My head is pounding – she got in a glancing blow. Nagato, the eye-drops?”

“As you wish, Admiral.” Nagato wiped her hands with a handkerchief before her left hand lifted Sycorax’s eye-patch. The other hand held up a vial whose contents dripped out into the scarred, empty socket of the Nagini.

Sycorax relaxed, sighing in relief as Nagato took away the leather cover and replaced it with a softer covering. Throughout this whole operation, the Elder Lich stared at her.

“Mi- Sycorax-san? T- The Othinus class...”

“It makes a permanent avatar change,” Sycorax confirmed gloomily. “The quest starts with gouging out your own eye to offer to Mimisbrunnr. One quest per level, maximum five levels. Have I introduced Nagato yet? Momonga-san, this is Nagato, Quartermaster of the Fleet.”

From her position, Nagato gave a nod. “Good day to Vice-Admiral Momonga. I am battleship Nagato, pleased to meet you. Leave the enemy battleships to me.”

“Yes, good day,” Momonga distractedly stated. “Why did Albedo attack?”

“Anyway, what did I say? Jealousy,” Sycorax simply replied. “After all, from your stories about them, they’re fighting to become part of your harem for some reason. I don’t really get why, but whatever.”

“Ah... that’s... wait.” Momonga did a double-take at Nagato. “Vice-Admiral?”

“The Fleet Admiral has recognised yourself as a member of the Admiralty in good standing, to be elevated above Rear-Admiral to become a Vice-Admiral, thereby increasing the Admiralty manifest of Vice-Admirals from nine previously to ten,” Nagato tonelessly replied in a voice which to Momonga sounded like Solution Epsilon. “Of course, the actual details of conscriptions as well as the terms of the alliance may be worked on at leisure, hence I have arrived here as soon as 「Compass Rose」was established in order to represent the Fleet crews in negotiations. I did not quite expect so much trouble.”

“You’re underestimating our Fleet Admiral, Nagato,” Nereus admonished. He was still fully armed for a thief, waiting and watching.

“I don’t even want to marry you and they’re still jealous,” Sycorax complained mockingly.

“Sorry... but why did Albedo attack you?”

Sycorax frowned. “I’ve never been physically here, so Albedo could always ignore our messages. But I came here, and you started paying all your attention onto me. And then there was that ridiculous declaration that somehow works, and I’m elevated to your equal. To her, my social and political value must outweigh her own that it seems inevitable that we end up together. Right now, I am the biggest social threat to those women who are chasing you. Good enough? Add that to the fact that in this weather, this is the only plausible time when I can plausibly die and disappear without anyone ever finding my body.”

Momonga lowered his head. “Yes. It’s... rational.”

“Well, for a cherry boy like you who has no idea how to deal with women,” Sycorax continued, “we are going to clean up the situation. Which means that you are going to have to learn how to _talk_ to Albedo. Like, of course Albedo is attractive, but what kind of relationship are you seeking to build? Where does this love lead you?”

“Eh?! Sycorax-san, that’s a bit...” Momonga frowned. “...she loves me because I messed with her settings.”

“From what I’ve noticed,” Sycorax reflected after a long while, “your creations tend to learn and grow too. So, Albedo can also fall _out_ of love.”

There was a long beat of silence before Sycorax winced. “You know what? Let’s play another game, Momonga-san. This game is called how to expect more from life despite being undead. Even though your strong emotions keep getting suppressed, those feelings still exist, don’t they? So you owe it to Albedo and yourself to settle this ambiguity.”

It made sense, even if Momonga’s first instinct was to flee. He therefore stood, sat, and listened until the rain stopped and it was time to face her at last.

 _I owe it to Albedo and myself to settle this_.


	33. XXXII: Battle Stations

 

“The problem, of course, is what my existence means,” Sycorax elaborated to Ainz once they had started planning and she had ordered all NPCs away.

They were in Ainz’s study, Sycorax having claimed the desk in a fit of whimsy. Sprawled over paperwork, her insouciant profile posed only a mild distraction. “Apparently, anything female is a threat to marrying you, which, tough luck. So I need to remove my value as a romantic rival, while establishing an importance to Nazarick’s welfare that is beyond the Floor Guardians.”

“You’ve said it so far,” Ainz agreed. “I’ve declared you as one of the guild, so they should follow you on a rational level. The problem is the emotional, and since my emotions keep getting suppressed...”

“So... what would make me indispensable to a semi-crazy lovestruck Succubus?” Sycorax considered. “Surely not sex, Albedo strikes me as the straight type. In the power structure, I’m easily ignored unless otherwise stated. And I’m an obstacle to her marrying you.”

“Hmm...” Ainz pondered. “Sycorax-san... would you mind, terribly, if I borrowed your name to lie?”

* * *

Albedo was currently in solitary confinement within the Frozen Prison of Nazarick’s fifth Floor. It was a harsh environment that would set one’s bones shivering with cold – normally, that was. This degree of cold would not harm her if she wore her full armour, but Albedo was currently wearing a white dress.

Footsteps echoed within the prison of ice. A heartbeat later, Demiurge’s face poked at the transparent panel that dictated the doorway of her temporary residence. The ice melted away, allowing the Guardian to step inside. The room sealed itself up behind him as he entered.

“So, care to explain yourself?”

Although his voice was steady, it was thinly veiled, everyone was able to hear the sharp undertone. Demiurge’s expression was extremely anxious; it was so unprecedented that even Albedo took a moment to consider him.

Still, she was the Overseer. In the face of such hostility and a question filled with murderous intent, Albedo remained as her usual self. “Demiurge... the presence of two Supreme Beings is dangerous to Ainz-sama.”

“Sycorax-sama is our hope!” Demiurge’s expression contorted. “She is Ainz-sama’s hope, he said as much himself. She is helping us to locate the other Supreme Beings. Having her wander into a warzone was terrible enough, but attacking our lady with the intent to kill smacks of treason, Albedo! At that moment, you were not only irrational, but disloyal!”

Normally, he was never one to display such rough behaviour, but the situation warranted it.

“And what about in the future?!” Demiurge continued. “What if the other Supreme Beings return, and they found out that this precedent of the creations murdering the creators has happened?! Of course we are loyal to the Supreme Beings, but what happens to Sycorax-sama could also happen to Ainz-sama. Furthermore, Sycorax-sama is the mistress of a Thief of the highest calibre and power, incorrigible flirt though he is. You should have been concerned about Ainz-sama’s safety. This is still too irrational, naïve – a purely emotional judgement-”

“Hey...”

Demiurge whirled around. “HOW DID YOU GET HERE?!”

The object of his ire was was a young man with black curls to the nape of his neck. He was handsome, almost delicate fine-boned, taller than Demiurge as he leant against the wall of ice. The sclera of his eyes were filled with blackness, leaving the white swirls of his pupils readily apparent in the dim light as he played with a straight razor. “Don’t say it like that, handsome~”

Demiurge glared. His eyes lacked eyeballs – completely without pupil or iris, simply shining diamonds cut into a brilliant faceted shape.

“This is Nazarick’s maximum-security Frozen Prison!” Albedo spoke up, having leapt to her feet at the same time that Demiurge reacted in shock. “You-!”

“Anyway, beautiful, I got permission to be here.” Nereus fiddled with the straight razor against the nails of his left hand in a deceptively idle gesture. “And, even if I didn’t, I think you’re underestimating us.”

The razor snapped back into its casing as Nereus stood up, seemingly more threatening than he had been earlier. “We’ve been introduced as the Admiral’s bodyguard. Now, I am the First Division Commander of the Fomori Fleet – in charge of the submersible fleet and amphibious operations. I’m also the Admiral’s personal assassin.”

“What?” Demiurge backed slightly – although he was also at the pinnacle of strength within Nazarick, he was admittedly weaker than his peers, relying instead on his brain and speed to fight. Even though the thief in front was impertinent, he was also a thief who had gotten past the wraiths and undead within the walls of the prison, and admittedly had permission.

“Who gave you permission?”

Nereus grinned. “Your skeletal boss.”

Demiurge grimaced, looking to the side and away from Albedo. He stepped away, waiting and ignoring whatever would happen to someone who had incurred an assassin sent to them.

Albedo’s head dropped. “So... this is where love has led me.”

The door melted open again. A skull poked in, and the pinpricks of light within his head glowed. “Nereus.”

“Vice-Admiral.” The Kelpie raised his hand, palm turned inwards in the traditional Navy salute.

“How is the security?”

“Easy to break in. Hard to break out.”

“Since the point is to prevent breakouts, it shall suffice.” Ainz made a negligent gesture. Two codices – one bound in scaly skin, the other like a scattering of stars against the night sky – dropped out from his item box into his hand.

“In return for borrowing your service, I must ask you to relay this to Sycorax-san. This is the Legendary-class _Cthäat Aquadingen_ and _Celaeno Fragments_. With this, I hope she would be merciful enough to forgive my subordinate.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you,” Nereus checked the books as it was handed to him. “With that said, our Fleet Admiral would pay a visit later.”

“No. I would rather not leave any bad feelings between us. I still intend to have her officiate.”

“Aye, aye,” Nereus put the books under his armpit before turning on his heel to walk out of the prison, still unhindered. It left Ainz alone with his confused Guardians.

“Officiate?” Demiurge was the first to break from the silence. “Ainz-sama, may I ask, what does... he mean?”

“...In our society, a wedding must be officiated by two witnesses and a suitable official,” Ainz summed up. “As captain of her own ship, Sycorax-san is the only person within this continent halfway suitable to conducting a wedding.”

“Ah?” Demiurge nodded fiercely, hoarding this knowledge like a dragon would hoard gold. “Of course...”

“Needless to say, she cannot officiate her own wedding, and has no interest in that quarter at the moment,” Ainz cut in. “I invited her here to matchmake.”

“Matchmake?” Demiurge echoed. “Ah... I see. The consultation... the lunch with Aura and Mare...”

“What?” Albedo demanded. “Ainz-sama, Demiurge, what is going on?”

“...Ainz-sama elevated Sycorax-sama in order to have a proper official to find a suitable match and conduct his marriage according to the rites of the Supreme Beings,” Demiurge reluctantly imparted. “In short, Lady Sycorax’s presence here was meant to elect the queen consort of Nazarick, and our Lord’s... wife.”

Albedo’s amber eyes grew huge and teary. “So... I- I attacked...”

“The matchmaker,” Ainz contributed. “Of course, the plan’s been discarded now. Grandchildren or not, Sycorax-san is not going to arrange anything if her life is under threat.”

She sank to her knees, as if only now she realised the consequences. “A- Ainz-sama... the rules of marriage-”

“Even without marriage, she’ll need to record any children that come,” Ainz imparted, his voice sounding gloomy despite the lack of facial expression – being an Elder Lich without a face, of course.

Demiurge closed his eyes for a moment. Seeing that Albedo was not planning to say anything further, Demiurge turned his head back down disdainfully. “Ainz-sama. If you command, I will exhaust every effort to persuade Sycorax-sama to continue the... process.” With a displeased look to Albedo, he added: “The Overseer has ruined her chances in a moment of insane jealousy. I think she may be erased from the ballot.”

“...” A beat of silence started, before Ainz moved.

“The fault of all this lies with me, and the untimeliness of my plans. It is my fault. How do I deserve to lead you all here?”

“That’s-” Demiurge was cut off by a wail.

“Ainz-sama!” Albedo proclaimed, still on her knees looking up. Glistening tears were prepared to fall at the slightest flutter. “Our merciful Lord, who remained until the end, to whom we devote our complete loyalty, please do not say such a thing! Please...!” Mixed with a choked voice, continuously repeating, mouthing in a hoarse murmur both a prayer and also a howl of painful grief.

That such a casual joke would make Albedo so emotionally stricken filled Ainz with guilt, and he bent his knee and helped Albedo stand. “Forgive me.”

He understood. Did he not feel anger too, when he remained, alone and disheartened in the largesse of their combined efforts, now tossed aside like broken toys? Why did he allow Albedo to feel the same pain?

The memory of an empty eye socket gave Ainz pause. As an Elder Lich himself, seeing empty socket was a matter of course. Yet, seeing the same gap in a being as alive and vivacious as Sycorax... as the Heartbreaker, as the one who had not abandoned him at all reminded him of his purpose here – to protect the one being who came from where he had come from, who now understood him the most, from the creations of his friends and himself.

Ainz took out a handkerchief, and wiped away Albedo’s tears, his phalanges trembling slightly. Although he wanted to say something, he kept silent from lack of words. Due to his inability at interpersonal relationships, he did not know what comforting words to say. Any of Sycorax’s advice, bright happy Sycorax, had been forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Still sobbing, Albedo pleaded: “A- Ainz-sama, please promise, promise to me that you will never abandon us and leave this place!”

 _Leave_?

The glittering figures and bows of a fleet of ships crafted from ice came into his mind then. Skeletons hung from the masts and sails, some chattering with Fishmen and some laughing. Nagato, skating on the surface of the sea, firing dud shells at a water-horse who made passes here and there at the armoured mermaids which formed the First Division. Birds and beasts capable of flight surrounding a flat-topped ship like some fantasy equivalent of an aircraft carrier. Sycorax, decked not in pearls and silk but a bicorn hat and cottons, holding up a tankard to pour beer down her gullet as a drunken shanty resounded.

“Bring me that horizon, men!”

“...”

Albedo immediately assumed something else. “Why can you not make that promise? Did you have thoughts about abandoning us already? Is there something which makes you unhappy? If you would just explain, we will immediately remedy it! If you say that I’m a hindrance, I shall immediately take my own life!”

“No!”

Taken by surprise, Demiurge actually took a step back as Albedo’s shoulders jumped. “Listen to me. Making Sycorax-san a guild member – a Supreme Being, in your words – and inviting her here, throwing out so much advice, giving her so much attention to the detriment of the others... that is my fault.” _I can admit that much, but she’s my friend..._ “Having her matchmake without consulting all of you, I admit, was my second mistake, but we had always done this so I never assumed that you would all think differently.”

Ainz paused. The silence and the cold continued.

“You will be released tomorrow, Albedo,” Ainz murmured. “I will ensure your comfort. Until then.”

Then he left. A heartbeat later, Demiurge jogged out of the Frozen Prison, following the footsteps to the teleport gate that led from the fifth floor. “Ainz-sama? Ah, he left... how do I fix this? I suppose I should look at Sycorax-sama...”

It was a matter of will to get to the ninth floor, and soon Demiurge found himself knocking at the door of her suite. The door was opened, and Lumière poked her head out. However, the slightly green tint to her face conveyed a sense of fear.

Something cold flowed down his back.

“Ah, Demiurge-sama...”

“I would like to request an audience with Sycorax-sama.”

“My apologies, but milady is entertaining a guest. Will after dinner suffice?”

“Then...”

Demiurge never got a chance to confirm it, since the door opened further and let out another guest.

“A- Ainz-sama!”

The supreme overlord swept out. “Demiurge. You came to visit in her convalescence?”

“Er- Lady Sycorax is unwell?”

“An old wound flared up due to-” Ainz waved. “She is resting. The matter that we have just discussed is concluded, do not bring it up.”

“Understood, Ainz-sama.”

Ainz swept off again.

“As expected of our ruler.”

Lumière rested against the wall, her face still green. “D- Demiurge-sama... Ainz-sama just... just... he just knelt in front of S- Sycorax-sama’s bed... and apologised.”

Demiurge’s teeth made an audible clack against each other. “Never say anything.”

Lumière frantically nodded. “Of course not! But, Supreme Being to Supreme Being... the interactions of two beings so far above us are truly incomprehensible, aren’t they.”

“I agree. In fact,” Demiurge nodded, turning about, “I will prepare a suitable gift for an invalid immediately. Please keep the great lady free of stress, Lumière. I will return shortly.”

“Yes, Demiurge-sama.”

Demiurge walked away, and considered gifts for women. Then he discarded all such plebeian thoughts, and began to consider Sycorax and her preference for rare tomes, before deciding to turn towards Ashurbanipal.

Back in his study, Momonga sank into his chair and started a Message. “Sycorax-san, it’s done.”

「Good. Now we got an excuse to defer everything. Follow the schedule of dates I suggested, and as for me... it’s time to deal with the other situation from Re-Estize. Also, deal with Cocytus, I wrote out a list.」

Consulting the parchment in question, with his spirits lifting, Ainz put in another Message directed to Nazarick’s front-line general.


	34. Interlude : Kaleidoscope

 

The Great Torrent would be remembered as a rainstorm that spanned the Kingdom’s and Empire’s southern half. The torrents of rain that washed mud into fields and disrupted the autumn’s growth barely touched Re-Estize.

However, the situation was nearly mirrored in the north. Above the waves of the North Sea, a dark-skinned, dark-haired Storm Sylph wrapped in a _kinagashi_ of a dark grey _seigaiha_ pattern. 1 He floated over the fo'c's'le of a two-mast frigate composed of cloudy ice – a smaller ship compared to the capital ships of the Fleet, but serviceable and fast now that it had been careened and scrubbed clean. A pocket watch dangled from his hand, which he checked as a glittery mist surrounded the boat, including the waters underneath. Shadowy shapes were illuminated within the waters by the glitter-dust.

“Half-broadside,” Ariel instructed. “Coordinates from bearing: negative twenty-five, nine. Firing.”

「“Firing, roger.”」 Phaeton, flying far above the target village, corrected with the help of 「Message」. 「“Counting down: five, four, three, two, one.”」

A s  Ariel noted the time, a ray of light bisected the dark skies.  Almost brilliant in its intensity, it preluded the meteor projectile that, having been fired earlier, now followed its  parabolic trajectory down, down, down – and crashed into the target of a settlement of  Cetacean which had been  earmarked earlier.

B lood and meat hunks splashed as they flooded into the sea, having been blown up with the force of  the first volley.

T he waters trembled. As one, the Sahuagin shapes within the waters ought to flee, only to ram into a floating platform. This platform, composed of chains, held three female dancers whose feet swirled eddies in time to a string quartet playing.

“Second half, loaded,” Ariel coolly continued.

「“Correct zero thirty-seven, zero twenty-five.” **」** Phaeton chirped. 「“I could have fired from above. Even with their radar senses, they can’t escape.”」

“Denied,” Ariel rebutted. “Firstly, the Operations Order states that no quarter would be given if they were to become our enemy. The hiding and treatment of Sahuagin would be included within that definition. Second, aerial bombardment would still give away our position due to the Cetacean radar sense detecting the projectiles’ vibrations early. This way, we can use the horizon to hide the ship so that, even if the projectiles were detected, their origin could not be.”

「“Noted. Correct zero-two-zero, negative zero-four-two.”」 Phaeton’s beak clicked. 「“You sure this isn’t just to fill our teamwork requirements?”」

“We’re usually stuck together as a team,” Ariel replied. “Formation aside, our skill sets are rather complementary though we hit from long distances. Assess.”

「“Village destroyed, fires started, about... eighty percent fatal casualties. Should I finish the rest?”」

“If you please.” Ariel floated to the stern, where lengths of iron chain had tied the floating platform to the frigate. “First Officer Índice, Yeomen Justine and Juliette, report.”

The corpses of Sahuagin that floated in the sea were blue. Well, they were already blue in scale, but the blue in their faces and where blood flowed from their orifices was more associated with cyanosis than breathing underwater. The two backup dancers giggled as their leader took a stance and kicked absently at a passing corpse. The dead Sahuagin flew from her kick, flattened face-first into the hull of the  _Cedar._ It wheezed.

“That one’s not quite dead from the poison, sir,” she replied. The short skirt under her jacket and tied shirt was lacy and erotic, but its wearer was still a special assassin on loan from the First Division – Índice, second of Los Deditos.

“Get them aboard, we’re shark-hunting,” Ariel ordered. “Someone scrap that last one off of the hull and get him to Pulgar. Phaeton, get your feathery arse moving. We want information, and we have a conference with the Admiral at nine.”

「“We’ll be going ahead! Noble, Grout, get that shark chow!”」

Ariel resolutely broke the Message. “Yeomen, start skinning. It’ll make lovely raincoats.”

* * *

The dragon Tsaindoruks Vaision – also called the Platinum Dragon Lord, one of the five great councillors of the Agrand Council Alliance – stirred from his shallow slumber. Dragons possessed keen senses that far surpassed those of humans, being able to detect past invisibility or illusions even from a surprising distance. This was true even when they slept, and Tsaindoruks, nicknamed Tsar, was far better than normal dragons, being a lord amongst the species.

Hence, anyone who wanted to sneak up to him had to be exceptionally skilled. Despite his long lifespan, he only knew a handful of people who could pull this off, including the _upstart_ -

“It seems like retirement suits you.”

“And how would it matter to you, who have taken my country?”

The presence who had intruded in this mausoleum where Tsar had chosen to cloister himself giggled. “As a councillor, you should not say that.”

“A monster like you, who comes once a century...” Tsar scoffed. “This time, it isn’t something that will help the world like Leader did. Leave this place.”

“I kind of like it. If it’s next to that human nation like I see, perhaps this is the sort of place that I’m looking for.” The presence laughed. “Well, enough with that. This astral projection is only temporary...”

Tsar grimaced.

“This is the castle of the Eight Greed Kings, so I see,” the presence continued, almost insubstantial save for the glowing yellow eyes immersed in the shadowy form made nearly real. “Eryuentiu... not exactly my priority right now, but a promising lead. I’ve seized control of that human king your Council was talking about, and stirring up trouble. The moment I find what I’m looking for, you Councillors can have the country back.”

Tsar ground his canines.

The shadowy form pointed to a sword in his view. It was a sword that was not suitable for slashing. However, its sharpness was beyond anything in this world, an item which was impossible to craft with modern magic. This sword ― one of the eight weapons left behind by the Eight Greed Kings ― was the reason why Tsar could not leave this place.

“Keep that safe for me, would you? I’ll be coming for it.”

An unlucky encounter, thought the Platinum Dragon Lord, but of an evil nature. What a coincidence too. Was it my fortune or my misfortune that the Agrand nation has to play host to such an existence... “Heh. If you have such guts, then resolve whatever you’re trying with our coasts before the heroes come for you,” Tsar rebutted. “They’re strong.”

“...is that a threat?” The statement was not made out of anger, more of... wonder.

“Interpret it however you like,” Tsar rebutted. “Your agent might have managed to hypnotise King Lanposa, stir up potential trouble and bought you a distraction, but you’ll be found out, mark my words.”

The shadowy figure shrugged.  “ I was always intending to be found out, ”  it sighed in a voice that made Tsar nearly flinch. “That woman likes flashy entrances and the sea. Even a shut-in like you would hear of her, if she is here...!  T he  _Heartbreaker_ will be at the sea, looking to conquer the horizon .”

* * *

_**1 A kinagashi is a casual Japanese kimono. A Seigaiha ( 青海波) pattern is an alternating wave crest pattern, also Japanese.** _


	35. XXXIII: Bulkhead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I tend to write by the seat of my pants, so I didn’t really think about organisation, so... what d'you think?
> 
> – LLS

Waves crashed on the rocky cliffs that made the wave-breakers, which surrounded one side of a port town backed by a large mountain. This town had been recently christened as Loguetown by one particular inhabitant. The moniker had stuck for lack of resistance and in deference to that inhabitant, who had imposed his rule on Loguetown and by extension the whole of the Agrand Council since two years ago.

Despite the relative speed of his conquest, the situation had gone unremarked from this individual summoning his vassals – some of which were not only legendary monsters by the standards of this miserable place referred amongst his people as the New World, but were also capable of mental magic.

One such vassal, a short-haired girl in a fox mask, was humming now a song as she sat next to him. Their backs were placed to the red-painted _torii_ gate, entwined with rope and festooned with folded streamers. The gate itself stood before a magnificent shrine – mysterious yet befitting in the standards of Japanese shrines.

“Master,” the girl-shaped monster reported after a while, as her humming cut off. “I cannot seem to penetrate that mist in the distance.”

Her master nodded once, sharply. “I would not expect you to. Good work, anyway. A mist that not even my servants can break...”

“If required, Ootoshi and I could explore it?”

“...Remain, Uka-no-Mitama. You are to guard the shrine while my spirit is away.”

“Yes, master.”

Before he stepped beyond the boundary, though, he turned back to behold a scale-covered Fishman running up the evenly spaced steps towards the shrine. As the Fishman arrived, panting from the uphill dash, the girl continued her song:

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

“Bow to the master,” Uka-no-Mitama said at last, and the Fishman fell to his knees before the red-painted gate and its master.

“Lord Protector!” he cried. “We- the forward team got eliminated on the investigative mission! The treasure that you have mercifully bequeathed to us-”

“Bequeathed?” the one being prostrated to scoffed in reply. “Go on.”

“-has been lost!”

Long tapered double-jointed fingers traced through his black locks. Amber eyes gleamed within the deep contours of his face – while handsome by human standards, still looked unsettling like a fleeting dream or a nightmare.

“...Your Councillors begged to borrow it. This Loguetown was presented to my magnificent self as the collateral for its pledge. And you have lost it.”

The very ground seemed to tremble. The black-haired figure glared down. “Do you think I am an idiot? If you think that I am so forgiving, then-”

“YES!” The Fishman loudly pronounced. “It was that witch who seized it from us! She... turned them into stone...”

“Huh?”

“She turned our men into stone and stole the sword! We- we weren’t at fault!”

Golden eyes narrowed. “My magnificent self will be the one to decide _that_! Uka-no-Mitama.”

“Yes, master.”

“Toss this eyesore down the mountain. The next time someone from the Agrand comes up again will be when the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons flies.”

“As you command.”

“Hmph,” the black-haired one hummed as the fox-mask girl manhandled the frozen Fishman down the steps of the shrine. “The white-haired witch... the mist...”

“Master? Should we prepare dinner? Loguetown’s mayor sent up a selection of offerings, including _sake_.”

“Huh? No, leave it. Today’s dinner will be food for battle. We must confront those who hide within the mist tonight.”

The level 85 monster bowed her head in acknowledgement of his command. She left to fulfil her command, still humming. “Uhm... the Miss is awake. She asked for Master.”

“Just nice. We have come so far to be here. I’ll send a message to- mm, yes.”

“Master?”

“It is... a mere concern.” The master acknowledged. “If Ainz Ooal Gown’s Unsinkable and Sharpshooter were also here, then... we should not have left the fairy behind, but we really needed to find her... bring me a Yatagarasu.”

* * *

A wide _bachi_ strummed a beat in the _shamisen_. Pads of fingers tightened on the slender strings drawn tight, strapping the bridge to the thick-necked body of the three-stringed instrument.

If a shamisen was an instrument so rare as to be unknown in this world, the sight of one being held by a fey woman of red hair and garnet eyes was equally incongruent to Japanese. The red in her hair was not limited to highlights alone; it was a rich ruby red of such tones that its colour could only have been achieved by crushing rubies for dye or something. Her dress was equally bizarre; light leather armour over her form which did nothing to understate her voluptuous figure, and heeled shoes with brass bells looped around her ankles.

Absently, the elfin girl playing the shamisen began to sing:

>    
>  _O, little lost one over there,_  
>  _Why, oh why, have you come to this place?_  
>  _When your time comes, it’s not easy to move past fate, but_  
>  _There must’ve been something you could have done to avoid this..._

> _With your human self, you continue on._   
>  _With your self alone, you have lived on._   
>  _You never ran from anything,_   
>  _so to your strong spirit, I salute you with a cup..._

> _Shall I chant for you a song,_  
>  _as an underworld souvenir?!_  
>  _At the very least, let it be a parting gift,_  
>  _‘til we reach the other shore...!!!_  
>   

A wingbeat caused her to pause – not in hesitation, but more of an assured practice. The veranda of the house she was singing outside looked ordinary. The fey woman still carried herself, with all the assurance being being armed beyond the capability of most threats to withstand.

A crow, its wingspan easily eight metres with its body equally sized to be proportionate, descended with the fires of the sun pouring off of its back. It thrust one giant talon out to her, showing her the scroll tied to the chitinous leg.

“Now what’s he done-” Untying it deftly, she scanned the paper and frowned lightly. “Ainz Ooal Gown? That’s... if all of us are here... and Ainz Ooal Gown was here... she might be there!”

With a whoop, the dignified elfin lady leapt, singing aloud:

>    
>  _The stars flow,  
>  on and on, into the distance,  
> Here now falls, an elegy.  
> _ _May you keep that same aspect of your unshakable soul,_  
>  When you are reborn!  
>  

“I’m going to find you, Psycho-chan~!”

* * *

Despite not being a pure Warrior-class build, Sycorax’s race was amongst the ones with the greatest regenerative power. It was how she could afford to have such a low defence despite her speed – damage meant little to a Nagini with the proper abilities to regenerate HP. Sycorax even had a secret trump card to regenerate MP – Ainz knew of it, and knew how it had sucker-punched three top-class players before.

“I told you not to drink so much already,” Ainz commented without sympathy as the Nagini in question groaned in pain at the breakfast table, two days after the first assault on the Lizardmen. “Cocytus’ assault on the Lizardmen is today.”

Sycorax grumbled. Alcohol might count as a poison in the YGGDRASIL system, but it was being particularly unhelpful at the volumes that she’d guzzled to overwhelm her body’s systems in this case. “Don’t worry. I outdrank that _pettanko_.”

“No, I have to worry! Why is Shalltear drinking against you, Sycorax-san?!”

“...for a lot of reasons.” Sycorax sighed happily into a steaming mug. “I told Lumière to make cider from the apples once the harvest comes. It’ll be delicious.”

“At this rate, you’ll have to worry about other things as well!!” Momonga sank back into his chair. “...you’re not going to watch me?”

“...I’ve watch you rehearse your shitty entrance loads and loads of times,” Sycorax pointed out. “Besides, I saw you with the Lizardmen yesterday. I don’t think you’re planning to embarrass yourself at this stage, right?”

“What would you have done?”

“Ah, there you have it wrong,” Sycorax advised, holding up her right hand like a scolding teacher. “My rôle is a pirate. I’m a free-wheeling, hard-drinking party girl. You are the overlord.”

“Mmm,” Momonga acknowledged. “But you’re the head of that pack of wild mavericks, Hostis Humani Generis.”

“Ainz Ooal Gown had some wild personalities too, IIRC.”

“Please speak in full words, Sycorax-san.” Momonga’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m seriously asking from one Guildmaster to another.”

Sycorax frowned. “But our Hostis Humani Generis was formed later than your Guild. It took a while to convert from a clan to a guild, because of the Fleet.”

“Ah, yes. But all of you were...” Momonga paused. “We did not think that each of you would perform well in a group.”

It was more polite than saying that Ainz Ooal Gown had rejected each and every one of the players who would surpass their rejections and become the enemy of all human players on the Jötunheimr server, because they were all insane.

“Well, Titania-chan didn’t take kindly to being rejected by your _Kaze-chin_.”

“Who knew that voice actresses could have such rivalries with _actresses_...”

“Titania-chan made her choice clear when she chose a female avatar. Besides, she won the title of Fairy Queen against all the other Elf players too!”

“Very true,” Momonga agreed. “Speaking of other players... we didn’t understand Kladenets-san half the time either.”

“He’s Russian,” Sycorax replied. “Gave Canon-san a start. She was literally crying when he said that he was married, kept asking if he was a guy. Canon-san said that it was like Viktor turning into Georgi.”

Both of them silently contemplated the bizarrerie that was OTP is Canon. Both of them shook their heads and continued the conversation.

“What’s up with all the World Champions, right?” Momonga demurred. “I now know two out of nine, and both are married. It’s a stark contrast to us ordinary people.”

“I know!” Sycorax burst out. “Kladenets was the best fighter we ever had- ah, Lumière?” she mouthed as the door was cracked open from the outside.

“S- Sycorax-sama, your... Madam Nagato requests an audience.”

“Send her in.”

The door flew open, and Nagato marched in, a sheaf of papers already in hand. “Good morning, Fleet Admiral, Vice-Admiral,” she began. “It is 0800 Fleet time: Fleet operations have begun. First, I have here copies of the forward reports sent from Ariel and Phaeton on Operation Infancy.”

Sycorax’s back straightened. Although she was an avowed pirate, Momonga still felt himself stiffen in response to her military-neat bearing. “Status report.”

“Yes. The Cetacean village had reported allying behaviour with their enemies the Sahuagin. They have eliminated our primary target: the Sahuagin, and as a precautionary measure, the settlement of Cetaceans were wiped off of their island. The settlement and its landmass has now been claimed in the name of the Admiralty. Commander Ariel requests permission to transport a team of artificers of the Seventh and their associated escorts there by Gate.”

“...get him to send some preliminary soundings via Assam first,” Sycorax decided. “He definitely has the equipment and manpower for sounding out the place. In fact, make him cover the whole island in mist. Considering its proximity to the Agrand, precautions are best taken while we’re down two capital ships.”

“Yes.” Nagato looked down at her papers. “Second, stratus update on the data analysis of the Grand Library stolen from Arwintar. Using the recorded information, we can begin a historiographical search for the presence of others from the Admiralty on the continent, as well as consistent, if incomplete information on the celestial navigation systems employed on this land.”

“Really?” Momonga exclaimed, receiving blank looks. “Ah, go on.”

“It concerns a communiqué encoded in a primitive substitution cipher and hidden within the stolen books,” Nagato continued. “It seems like those books were an... exchange point.”

“A dead drop.” Sycorax frowned.

“Dead drop?” Nagato echoed.

“A process by which two people use a secret location to exchange information without ever meeting directly,” Sycorax explained. “So, what was on it?”

“The Slane Theocracy has a network of spies in Arwintar.”

“You mean that human-hating nation down south?”

“Yes,” Nagato nodded. “In this communiqué, the report mentioned the Great Forest of Tob. Apparently, the Forest was originally controlled by three monsters – the Serpent of the West who uses magic, the Giant of the East stationed in the withered forest, and the Beast of the South, also called the Virtuous King of the Forest.”

“I know the last one.” Momonga admitted. “He is my pet, Hamsuke.”

“The Djungarian,” Sycorax nodded. “Nagato, go on.”

“Yes. The north was supposed to be controlled by twin witches living a swamp, but recently the balance of powers have changed from a bardess taking up residence there. With lightning-fast moves, the Giant of the East was already destroyed and the Serpent of the West is crushed under her heel. This bardess, quote, ‘did not possess the ears of the elves, nor the powers of the druids. Instead, the fiend with hair like flame used a three-stringed instrument, almost like a lute, plucked not with the fingers or the nails but instead with a curious plectrum – solid at its handle to flatten out at the end to pluck the strings’.”

Slowly, Momonga and Sycorax exchanged looks.

“ _Shamisen_ ,” Momonga nodded.

“That sounds like the _bachi_ , the plectrum,” Sycorax agreed, her eye vacantly staring at the ceiling. “Bardess, using a _shamisen_ and _bachi_ , flashy enough to get _caught_ -”

“Sycorax-san,” Momonga hesitated. “You don’t think-”

“I never think,” Sycorax admitted. “It is too early to collect data. Right now... Momonga. What time is the Lizardman combat?”

“...four.”

“We’ll make it somehow,” Sycorax decided. “Nagato, get Nereus. We’re setting out!”

* * *

**_The song comes from Dedicated Song - Higan Retour by Diao Ye Zong. Lyrics by RD-Sounds, the music from Touhou's ZUN. Here:_ **


	36. XXXIV: Blue Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tai-chan!” Sycorax exclaimed. “I came to get you! _IN THE NAME OF OUR FRIENDSHIP!_ ”

****There was a house on the bayou north of the Great Lake. Previously, it had been inhabited by a pair of twin witches and a Treant, named Zy'tl Q'ae. Two years ago, the twin witches were killed, the evil tree destroyed, and the caretaker dryad of the northern bayou was enslaved by its current resident.

Now, Ryraryus Spenia Ai Indarun shivered as he alighted before the house on the bayou. The sound of strings twanging resounded in the dim, humid atmosphere as the red-haired woman, possibly an Elf, played on strings that sounded like- like-

“You have returned.”

The green-skinned Naga, known as the Demon Serpent of the West, bowed low. His upper body, which resembled that of an old man with moss-matted hair, brushed the muddy ground. “This old one greets the ruler of the Tob Forest.”

“When did I ever claim to rule this forest?”

“Indeed. Yet, since you have killed the twin witches who ruled the north and the Ogre which ruled the east, in the absence of the beast who ruled the south and this old self who serves you, there is no other who is more befitting. The weak submitting to the strong is only natural. This old one will brave hell for you with no hesitation!”

“Pini, get some apple juice for our guest.”

“Y- Yes, madam!” A female dryad with green skin, textured like wood-grain, ran out from within the house. The leaves on her head rustled like hair as she presented a roughly hewn tumbler of golden juice sloshing within to the old Naga.

“This old one gives his thanks,” his body pressed further down.

The red-haired woman cocked her head, as if listening. “Pini, we’re expecting guests today. About a half-peck would do.”

The dryad bowed low and backed away wordlessly.

“That little one… Ryraryus, am I so terrifying?” Her high voice laughed.

The Naga bowed lower. He had thought the same too, until his old enemy was disembowelled and the intestines dragged out to be made into strings. There was a lute somewhere strung with Guu’s innards now. And if he ever made this lady angry...

“Anyway, you guys can’t hope to kill me alone,” she continued. “So, whether or not a random Adventurer can manage to do so… the winds speak to me, Ryraryus.”

“They must mention some unfathomable wisdom, then.”

“...well. I would not know. But, she comes with the wind and the storm...” The amber eyes gave him chills. “The flag...”

 

* * *

“Admiral! Fleet Admiral, please wait! At least until we’ve formed an entourage-”

“There is no need!” The command echoed throughout the halls of Nazarick. “I must... I must go to the forest again!”

“You’re going too fast, Admiral!” Despite being an Automaton, the battleship Nagato personified still had inferior speed in exchange for extreme defences, befitting of the battleship capable of surviving a nuclear bomb. “We still need to requisition that-”

“I’ve already sent Lumière ahead with the details to Aura,” Sycorax revealed. “We’ll borrow Momonga’s pet to search north of the Great Lake while Momonga is handling the Lizardmen. We’ll need my pet ravens and your radar. If that description of the Elf in the forest is real...”

“...but, Vice-Admiral Titania is a High Sidhe, the same as Nereus, right?” Nagato asked.

“They look about the same. In YGGDRASIL, the physical difference between Elves and Sidhe are minimal to begin with,” Sycorax explained. “The ignorant might have assumed Titania-san to be a Light Elf. If that is true-”

“Sycorax-sama. May I ask why you have come here, without your escort?”

“Demiurge!” Sycorax slid to a halt, no mean feat when she had no legs to prevent her from colliding with the Floor Guardian. “Why are you here?”

“Ainz-sama notified me of the circumstances. If another person from our world has appeared, then we can gather more information on the whereabouts of our lost masters, including why have they fallen out of contact,” the bespectacled Arch-Demon replied. “I believe I have some grasp on his profound schemes. Truly, they are considerations that only the ruler of this domain would have taken into account, and only another Supreme Being in residence could be trusted to investigate this matter. However, I cannot allow your noble self to proceed unaccompanied. I am aware that it may perturb you, but I hope that in your boundless compassion, you will permit one of us to escort you.”

“I’m bringing Nagato,” Sycorax replied. “Are you implying something about my Fleet’s Quartermaster?”

“No, that was not my intention, Lady Nagato,” Demiurge made a short bow to her. “However, Milady has just recently suffered an attack from one of our own. The Great Tomb of Nazarick’s shame cannot be absolved unless we provide an apology.”

“Then Aura will do. She’s waiting outside.” Sycorax’s eyes narrowed. “By the way, aren’t you supposed to accompany Momonga today? Doesn’t he need you?”

“Then that puts me at ease. I bid you a good day, Sycorax-sama.”

“The same to you, Demiurge.” _What’s this guy thinking?_ Sycorax reflected as she went on her way out.  _I’m not good with men who are too smart. Dammit!_

Aura was waiting outside. As promised, a giant Djungarian hamster with a snake tail awaited next to her. “Sycorax-sama! I’ve brought all the things you asked for!”

“Thank you, Aura. Are you Hamsuke?”

“T- That is indeed what my lord calls your humble servant!”

“I need you,” Sycorax offered. “I have a friend in the forest. Could you take us to the north to find her?”

“I- Indeed I can! P- Please mount my back!”

Sycorax stared at it. “We’ll be faster on foot.”

“Taking Flat-chest Vampire Airlines would be faster,” Aura pointed out.

“Flat-chest Vampire-” Sycorax broke off. “Aura, you shouldn’t refer to Shalltear in that manner. Transporting people quickly is an important logistical duty that should not be insulted. Putting aside internal morale, what would outsiders think if they heard you, and knew about Nazarick’s organisational structure like this?!”

“I- I’m sorry!” Aura jumped at the scolding, shifting her weight from one leg to the other in a fidget.

“In the future, watch your words,” Sycorax advised. Michiru Kaiō might have spent her life on the fringes of society, but manners was still something drilled into officers regularly. _I’ll have to bring it up with Momonga later…_ _first, let’s get her to realise her mistake._ “Then, do you know where was your mistake?”

“Um, insulting Shalltear?”

“Well… the usage implies that logistical staff are somehow less than combat staff,” Sycorax corrected. “Anyway, where did you even learn the word ‘airline’ from?”

“Ah, Bukubukuchagama-sama mentioned it once or twice,” Aura confessed. “Was it wrong?”

“An airline is a type of aerial transport company,” Sycorax explained. “You can’t equate it to『Gate』without misunderstanding some things. Anyway, it’s an insult to Shalltear’s abilities, that transporting people is all that she’s good for.”

“I see.” Aura nodded solemnly, with the concentration of someone trying to piece it together.

“Don’t ever say that to her face!”

“Yes...” Aura frowned even as she mounted her pet Fenrir, a gigantic and monstrous four-legged wolf with red eyes and a dark green pelt.

. Sycorax glared at it before she turned to Nereus.

“Nereus, could you scout ahead?”

“Aye aye, Admiral.” Nereus disappeared, running over the flat lands from the Great Tomb.

“『Summon Mount: Sleipnir』!” Sycorax cast the spell twice to conjure two eight-legged horses, and Nagato and her each took one. “Set out!”

They ran over the land and the banks of the lake. On the far side, a frost crept up over the lake’s surface as the Over-Rank magic『Creation』was cast. Above their heads, Eyeball Corpses floated, their message echoing about.

“How flashy. Well, theatre is also a play for power,” Sycorax commented as a murder of squawking corvids took flight. “Eh? My crows… someone’s chasing them away! Nagato!”

“Yes!” The radar spires on the Quartermaster’s head sparked. A sound too high-pitched for normal humans to detect beeped. “The forest cover is blocking my signal. Permission to take to the skies for aerial reconnaissance?”

“Granted. Aura, take point and activate『Eagle Sight』.” Sycorax lifted her hands from the reins on her Sleipnir, her tail wrapping around the horse’s torso for support as her hands came together. “『Snake Hair Possession – Wdjet』!”

Nagato flew up, already listening with her advanced equipment. Sycorax’s loose locks writhed, taking on a hooded shape like the silhouette of a flaring cobra. Ahead, Aura rode forward on her Fenrir, whose pelt flowed behind it like trailing mist. Trees branched and made arches over their passage, accompanied by the sounds of singing birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

Strings strummed, vibrated.

“Music? Sycorax-sama-!”

“Do not interfere!” Sycorax dismounted her horse and dashed forward, her hat nearly blown off of her head save for its cord. It dangled around her neck, an unheeded obstacle which was ignored, unheeded even. For despite the caution, the danger, the existence of a new world-

“You’re slow.”

Sycorax dropped bodily – the axe kick directed towards her instead flew to Aura, who just barely dodged in time. Nagato landed, only for the interloper to backflip past her and make a three-point landing, the neck of the _shamisen_ directed towards Sycorax in a pointed gesture.

“Tai-chan!” Sycorax exclaimed. “I came to get you!  _IN THE NAME OF OUR FRIENDSHIP!_ ”

The _twang_ of a string echoed. Neither party moved.

The reply was understated. “Here I thought you would have made a ruckus already, that you would have appeared somewhere, anywhere… this miserable world would not have let someone like you pass unremarked. Isn’t that right… Psycho-chan?”

“I just arrived here!” Sycorax brightly replied. “The Fleet came with me, and I managed to contact Momonga but none of you guys, so I had to meet him first. His dungeon came with him too, and there was a lot of foo but there was a war and a lot of things happened. So… I made you wait.”

“Even in Hell, there is a single blooming flower of friendship,” a voice slowly drawled, echoing throughout the forest. “It rocks, back and forth, over the waves of the sea, leaving only one petal as a memento. Someday, it will certainly bloom again. To have spent two years waiting for such an idiot captain, I must be an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

The plectrum rested on her finger, as the _shamisen_ dropped to hang around her. “The beautiful muse of Hostis Humani Generis is me and me alone! Titania answers to no other name!”

Her answering grin stretched the perfect features of the Fairy Queen, right before she tackled the Fleet Admiral and both of them hit the floor in a mess of red and white. “I missed you, Psycho-chan! The last big mess I heard was a big fire and theft at Arwintar, but fires happen all the time.”

“That was us,” Sycorax confessed. “We stole their Grand Library.”

“I thought so, but I didn’t believe it… I thought you were having a 3D2Y of your own-”

“That’s impossible!” Sycorax laughed. “You know what kind of idiot I am. Nagato axed over ten plans before we got a solution that doesn’t involve me throwing up a major hurricane. And there was the other time I forgot about friendly fire and nearly turned on of my own subordinates to stone...”

“That’s so like you, Psycho-chan, but that’s cute~”

On the sidelines, Aura side-eyed Nagato as Fleet Admiral and Vice-Admiral started to talk in a manner similar to gossipy old ladies. “Erm… they’re not normal, are they?”

“The Admiralty who created us and the Fomori Fleet are amongst the most unique beings in the universe,” Nagato honestly replied. “How could you say that they are normal if they exist so far above everyone?”

While the subordinates chatted, Titania had already seized onto something out of thin air. “Look, I found a Naga too!” Titania brandished the green-skinned Naga into Sycorax’s face. “Isn’t he old- Oi, don’t turn him to stone just because!”

“He’s not cute at all,” Sycorax commented, but made a gesture, and the newly reanimated male Naga fell to coil himself and prostrate before the great Nagarani – queen of the Naga.

“T- This old one Ryraryus Spenia Ai Indarun apologises for sullying the great one’s eyes...”

“Erm...” Aura shifted. “If you would prefer, Nazarick is only a Gate away to settle down… Titania-sama.”

“Did you know?” Sycorax faux-whispered. “Nazarick actually had a spa resort built into it!”

“Huh?!” Titania complained. “We should have done more than the baths at the orlop decks!! I’m so jealous~ but I’ll kill for meat~ Ah, I can’t leave right now.”

Aura sweat-dropped.  _She’s even more scatter-brained than Sycorax-sama…_

“Why?” Sycorax smiled down to the male Naga. “This dirty old man who looks like one of the old perverts in the 21st century?”

Ryraryus clutched at his chest. “Old pervert...”

“Ah, nothing to do with him, he’s someone I crushed,” Titania dismissed. “More like the people from the Slane Theocracy. They have a-”

“Oh, that,” Sycorax grinned, meeting her friend’s eyes. “Let’s go to your house to discuss it!”


	37. XXXV: Brightwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the late posting, my grandfather died and his funeral happened and I got stuck with writer’s block. Hope this chapter isn’t too crappy.
> 
> – LLS

 

 ****Elves had once ruled the Great Forest of Tob, before Zy'tl Q'ae had appeared and begun to take over the land. The north thus abandoned, the forest was ten divided amongst three personages, collectively referred to by the forest’s residents as the Three Monsters. Of the northern forest’s original inhabitants, only Pinison Pol Perlia was left, and thus when a red-haired, red-lipped wide-smiling legendary monster took over the north and branched out, Pinison entered the service of the Forest’s new lady.

“Pinison,” said her mistress, “fruits and drinks, please. My friend has come to call.”

Too afraid to refuse, the Dryad had unstopped a pitcher of cider, sliced up some apples, and, using a giant leaf she had on hand, served it up on a makeshift plate. She hardly dared to look up as she moved from within the rough-hewn forest cabin to the veranda, until she had to serve the drinks.

Lady Titania was chatting amicably with a white-haired Nagini. The equally polished ivory sheen of the visitor’s scales, Pinison reflected, was befitting of a being able to laugh and joke with Pinison’s carmine-haired mistress.

“Did you seriously abuse your summons for housework?” the white-haired Naga was saying.

“Says the creator of the grimoire 『Skeleton Crew』,” her lady replied. “Your laziness is legendary, _Psycho-chan_. And you even brought along your Fleet’s Quartermaster to cover for you.”

“It is Nagato’s pleasure to be of use to the Admiralty, Vice-Admiral.” The black-haired woman scantily dressed in white gave a short bow.

The Nagini inclined her head. “It can’t be helped. I’m not always on top of things.”

The pair of them were chatting without a care, or even paying heed to the tremors of fear that clutched at Pinison’s heart. For her mistress – the same monster who had slain the eastern forest’s former ruler with a simple guitar twang, and subdued the others – to be laughing like this… What manner of god or devil had been invoked now? Especially compared to when she first came…

“So, you’ve been here for two years, Vice-Admiral Titania?” The black-haired woman asked Pinison’s mistress.

“Eh,” replied the madam. “Luckily I still had all the survival gear in my Item Box, so I managed to survive somehow… and then I killed a Troll and two Witches, so somehow… I started to rule this half of the forest. There was supposed to be a great beast in the south – the Beast of the South?”

“That is I, indeed!”

Titania blinked slowly as the heterochromic Dark Elf tapped the head of the giant talking hamster. “You… aren’t you an NPC from Ainz Ooal Gown’s dungeon?”

“Y- You know about Nazarick?!” Aura’s chest puffed up. “Well, that’s to be expected of the residence of the Supreme Beings!”

“Momonga’s entire dungeon came with him, as with me,” the white-haired Lady Sycorax explained when the fairy queen just looked more confused. “The NPCs all became alive – speaking of which-”

A shadow appeared from somewhere – no one knew where. It genuflected, revealing Nereus in his humanoid form, bending the knee before the red-haired Bard.

“Fomori Fleet, First Division Commander Nereus, presents himself to the Vice-Admiral Titania. I am glad for your safety.” He deferred himself before her. “The Fleet Admiral has ran without pause and break for news of the Admiralty’s whereabouts. Our men would cheer at news of your safety, Vice-Admiral.”

“They’d cheer even more if they knew that the others were here too.”

“The others are here?!” Sycorax started, looking about.

“Not here, _per se_ , but definitely in the same world,” Titania considered the veranda and its peaceful surroundings. In the small kitchen garden, the old Naga grunted as he pruned a trellis overwhelmed with vines. “I only saw Nurarihyon in these last two years. He was headed to the Agrand Council Alliance. They invited me too, but at that time I doubt that they need a Bard.”

“Did I hear correctly? ‘They’?” Sycorax echoed. “That famous loner Nurarihyon, the same Nurarihyon who insists on being only in a four-person party, had a companion? And nobody even bothered to use 『Message』? Ah, set up a field first.”

Titania picked up her _shamisen_ and struck a string. “『Discord』.”

As a Bard, Titania’s ability to use song magic was also applicable to anti-divination measures that relied on eavesdropping via sound. Furthermore, the side-effect of the『Discord』spell was the disruption of the opponent’s spells, with a five-percent chance to steal the effects of the spell for their own use and leave their opponents to pay the costs.

“No one picked up!” Titania defended herself. “And… have you tested the friendly fire?”

“Ah, yes.”

“I theorise that somehow, the concept of parties or allies is foreign in this world,” Titania mused.

“But I managed to contact Momonga,” Sycorax commented. “I wonder if it’s because I was talking to him as midnight approached… ah, I don’t know.”

“I’m the same, Psycho-chan,” Titania gave her a soft smile. “But I’m glad that you found me. What are you planning now?”

“Ah… Nagato,” Sycorax blinked, “what was- wait, I remember. Tai-chan, you’ve been discovered by the neighbouring Slane Theocracy!”

Sycorax quickly explained to Titania the entire situation. “So, please help me find the others!”

Titania stared at her, and then to Nagato and Nereus, and back. “So… you want me to abandon this home of two years, to take up my strings and follow you across the waves once more?”

“Yeah!” Sycorax beamed at her. “Be my crew again, Tai-chan! We’re going on an adventure!”

There was a gasp.

“...wherever you wish.” Titania paused. “Before that, though...”

* * *

Momonga was balancing the budget ledger once more when Sycorax called him via 『Message』.

“I need you to give us a ten-second clearance via 『Gate』,” she started. “For a party of six. Right into your office.”

“Huh?”

Nazarick, on Ainz’s orders, had been shrouded in magical fields which impeded teleportation and the like, powered by the MP of high-level vassals. These fields were strong enough to impede fairly high-tier spells, but they drained the vassals to the point where he had to rotate them out several times a day. In addition, they also impeded friendly teleportation. This was because of the friendly fire effect, which did not exist in YGGDRASIL. Thus, there were occasions when he needed to briefly disable the defence grid to permit direct teleportation to this place.

Of course, lowering the defences meant that enemies could teleport in as well. In order to keep them from being hit by an “ _explosion_ ”—as they called it in YGGDRASIL—Ainz decided to limit these brief openings to predetermined periods.

“I’ll arrange it,” Ainz stated. “Six people? Is it a Lizardman?”

“You’ll know once we get here.”

Ainz arranged the matters. Sycorax would not wilfully bring in a threat–that was how much he trusted her. So, the portal shimmered, and Ainz barely reacted until Aura stepped out with Sycorax her companions.

Barely just outside, the Homunculus maid on duty gasped as the only other Supreme Being currently in residence dragged a red-haired Fairy in front of Momonga’s mahogany desk and thrust her into Momonga’s face.

“Psycho-chan, be gentle with me,” the Fairy winced.

“Sycorax-sama!” Aura exclaimed. “W-What are you doing to Ainz-sama…?”

“Aura, take Hamsuke and go,” Ainz immediately ordered, so elated he was. “Go! Make sure no one enters. All of you on the ceiling, get out!”

In Momonga’s study, mandibles clicked. “Lord Ainz...”

“ **Go.** ”

In a rush, all of them followed his orders, hardly daring to defy their master. It left Ainz alone with two players and two NPCs from Hostis Humani Generis, one of whom he rounded on immediately.

“T- Titania-san!” He spread his hands in welcome.

The ginger-haired Fairy gasped. “M- Momonga?! Ainz Ooal Gown is here too?”

“I found my guild-mate!” Sycorax proclaimed. “Yours are definitely around somewhere! Tai-chan saw them!”

“...” A green aura flared up from around the Elder Lich. “Titania-san… is here… you saw them?”

“I couldn’t contact you guys at all for two years,” Titania confessed. “Yamaiko-san and Akemi-san went with Nurarihyon-san to the sea. Didn’t you know?”

“To the sea-? Sycorax-san.” The green aura persisted. “They’re here…I… I don’t get it. We were here! Why did they go to the sea?!”

“We weren’t here two years ago, Momonga,” Sycorax reasoned. “If people could be arbitrarily moved through _space_ , they can also be moved through _time_.”

“Time…” Momonga echoed. “Time- but, 『Message』...”

“And our『Message』contacts was reset somehow,” Sycorax added. “I couldn’t contact them. If they met Nurarihyon first...well, that guy’s DPS is through the roof even for us, and the flexibility of his summons are great too. Added with Yamaiko-san’s healing ability and Akemi-san’s sniping prowess, they’ll make a good PUG.”

Since YGGDRASIL parties could be freely changed anytime anywhere, for the cost of disrupting ongoing party-wide magic and skills, pick-up groups were common enough to be unremarked upon. It took skill, memory and quick thinking to pull off dungeon raids on a PUG though. Such parties were typically helmed by wild-cards who fell into none of the categories of magical attackers, physical attackers, tanks, healers, or scouts – people with challenging classes that could fill in for different circumstances.

“As for why he went north… Nurarihyon knows Psycho-chan,” Titania explained. "He couldn’t have imagined that our Commodore would give up the sea, no matter which world she ends up in. I got distracted by a couple of elf wars with the Theocracy, so I didn’t follow them. And...”

Titania coughed. “We didn’t know that Momonga and his whole dungeon were moved here too. At the time…”

Momonga hummed. “If I was in a world where I didn’t know if my near-disbanded guild was in, and a guild famous for wandering around and travelling the world appeared, of course I would side with them. I fault neither Titania-san nor Yamaiko-san for their decision. Could you please set up a conference with them?”

“Ah...” A muscle in Titania’s jaw ticked.

Sycorax blinked slowly. “Tai-chan? Is there a problem?”

The Fairy Bardess gave her a pitying look. “Psycho-chan, it’s not like you don’t know that guy’s pattern. What d’you think he’d do to lure you out?”

“Knowing my odds, he’ll start a civil war,” Sycorax replied without thinking. “Akemi-san would support him too… but Yamaiko-san doesn’t strike me as the type to agree.”

“Precisely.” Titania nodded firmly. “So that muscle-head teacher left and the last time I contacted her – two days ago – she was lost in a village somewhere on the Agrand subcontinent.”

A violent crash brought in a clutter of panicked Eight-Edge Assassins. “A- Ainz-sama? Why is your exalted head on the desk?”

Momonga picked himself up from where he had just done a violent head-desk. “Ignore that, all of you.”

“But, my lord-”

“More importantly, summon Albedo and all the Floor Guardians save Gargantua and Victim here. We’ve just got information that my comrade is lost on the continent. That Yamaiko-san… she must’ve put in a Directionless flaw somewhere too!”

“Beside that… Tai-chan. You’re planning to stop Nurarihyon with news of my arrival, right?”

“Obviously!” Titania retorted. “That Nurarihyon only listens to you, Psycho-chan. He’s mind-controlling some innocent human king into starting a civil war now.”

Momonga hummed. “That-”

“In a world like this, the possibility of mind control cannot be eliminated,” Sycorax pondered aloud, seating herself onto Momonga’s desk. “This civil war… what would be its trigger?”

“That… Nurarihyon said: ‘Night of the Long Knives. If she were here...’ Ah, we were talking about you.” Titania fidgeted. “He already went to take over the Agrand Council just to prepare for this plan of his.”

“This only proves that neither of you studied World History,” Sycorax continued to think aloud. “The Night of the Long Knives usually refers to a 20th-century purge that Hitler conducted on his political opposition. If he was mind-controlling someone with a significant opposition to be eliminated… his aim would be war. Specifically… Momonga, the map of the continent?”

Momonga complied, laying out the map on his desk. Sycorax traced the northern coastline of the Re-Estize Kingdom with a pearlescent fingernail. “If here… if I were here alone or with a fleet, he assumed that I would join up as a mercenary. Either way, he was betting that I would be there.”

“Would you be there?”

“I’m Sycorax the Heartbreaker, Momonga.” White eyelashes fluttered. “I appear in the midst of chaos and delight in fighting. That Nurarihyon… he knows me~”

* * *

Fairy Queen, Titania.

In YGGDRASIL where more than 2,000 job classes existed, Bard classes roughly devoted themselves to either battlefield management where they provided direction to multiple parties, or harried the enemies with magical DOT spellsongs and suggestion effects. These were the Concertmaster and Virtuoso builds respectively. Out of the 3,000 level 100 Bards in the YGGDRASIL system at its height, Momonga had only known Titania as the only player to use neither build.

For all intents and purposes, the Fairy Leanansidhe Bardess was the best Bard in the system. She had applied once to Ainz Ooal Gown. And, the reason for her rejection...

“I’m a Prima Donna build,” Titania winked when he asked her, in the midst of waiting. “That’s to say, I’m a front-line decoy. Psycho-chan often has me on the support side, though–that’s how we got our Admiral ranks.”

“Ah? So… Vice-Admiral means support?” And finally Momonga would get an explanation for why Sycorax had immediately pegged him as a Vice-Admiral immediately. “That’s why I had one rank increase on entry?”

“Ah...” Sycorax looked down, suddenly shy. “In old naval squadrons, the Admirals commanded from the centre, Vice-Admirals were in the vanguard, and Rear-Admirals were rearguard. So… rear-admirals were all our crafters, Admirals were all our wild cards, and then… Tai-chan had the longest duration per cast…”

“Precisely, Psycho-chan!” Titania caught the Fleet Admiral in a noogie. “Well, Bards are offensive classes too, so I can use bows. Apparently a few people called me the Fairy Archer for that reason. That’s confusing, Akemi-chan uses them too! But Psycho-chan was just exploiting an old joke.”

“Joke?”

“Tai-chan!”

“It goes back to _One Piece,_ ” Titania referred to the most famous and long-running of _Shōnen Jump_ magazine’s 21st-century Big Three. “See, Psycho-chan’s character was influenced by this snake-themed pirate empress. This pirate empress first appeared facing against a Marine Vice-Admiral… named _Momonga_.”

“Tai-chan!” A blush suffused Sycorax’s face.

“Isn’t that right?” Titania stuck her tongue out, before she leant back, so far back until she faced the ceiling above her. “Extreme Looking-Down Pose! My clients love it!”

...the reason why Titania never made the cut, aside from her variable work hours, was because, somehow, she had never really left the  _chūnibyō_ phase behind.

“Sycorax-san…”

The blush died. “Shut up, Momonga, or I’ll tell her about Pandora’s Actor.”

“I haven’t said anything!” The green aura suffused him once more. “And...” Calmer than before, he hummed. “I adjusted his settings in my _chūnibyō_ phase, but… this is the first time I’ve seen someone else’s  _chūnibyō_ expressed in their own character.”

“I’m a pirate! Strong and beautiful and all those things. Unlike you.” Sycorax turned to Titania with a sweet smile. “Hey, Tai-chan? Did you know-”

“I got it, I got it! I’ll stop!”

The pair of Guildmasters put their heads together across the table, both side-eyeing Titania. “Say,” Momonga started, “about Nurarihyon… are you worried?”

“What about your own guild members?”

“They’re with yours.”

“Let’s just put them together,” Sycorax decided. “So, our guild members are back with my fleet…you’ll have to wrap up your things and come with us.”

“Me?” Momonga repeated. “What about the NPCs?”

“Ah,” Sycorax sighed as a knocking resounded at the door. “But they’re your friends. Aren’t you going to find them?”

Momonga looked into the sole eye available in her face. It was delicate, green set in white and framed in a deceptively fragile face. Sycorax, though, was still the strongest person he’d known–because somehow, against all odds, her presence had given him the faith to believe that his friends, even the ones who retired and left the game and him behind, were in this world. It was by Sycorax’s hand, and Titania’s faith, and even Nurarihyon’s misguided belief in the craziness of Sycorax finding her way across worlds, which had wrought this miracle now.

“I… I need you to take me there, Sycorax-san.”

“Of course, Momonga-san!”


	38. XXXVI: Copper-Bottomed

****At the same place where a Nagini pirate, an Overlord necromancer and a Sidhe Bardess was discussing the future direction of their plans, other plans were being set in motion. Like some broken gear having set a great mechanism in motion, history itself began to tremble as beings of power far beyond the imaginations of this current world began to move. Events that happened in places far away would pull civilisations and entire species into inexorable conflict, clashing mundane and supernatural against each other.

Either way, events thus far must be turned away from Nazarick, towards the conjunction of time and space where events now unfold:

The Kingdom of Re-Estize and its capital, Re-Estize.

Boasting a total population of 9 million humans in the city register, ‘old’ would be the best way to describe its capital. A historic legacy, a dirty city with the guise of antiquity, a disgrace—various such meanings abounded. This could be easily understood with a simple stroll through town—aside from the few actual houses on either side, the apparent harshness of the surroundings meant that freshness or splendour was sorely lacking.

Depending on the individual describing it, the city of Re-Estize could be see as a land rich with history, or a dull city stewing in its own slow, marching demise. The many narrow roads left unpaved made the distinction of city and country doubtful. People did not walk in the middle of the path, which was reserved for carriages; instead, they squeezed through the sides in a disorderly manner.

The Kingdom’s citizens were already used to such congestion. They walked like they were trying to slip through the cracks, skilfully avoiding others heading in the opposite direction.

This included avoiding the tall Warrior-Captain of the Kingdom striding through with his left arm trailed behind him. Built like a cliff-side, the crowd practically parted for him.

Beside the Warrior-Captain strode another man. His hair was cut haphazardly, like it had been done in the dark with a dagger by himself. His brown eyes glared straight ahead, and his lips were currently thinned in a grimaced. The stubble on his chin gave it the appearance of growing mould. Although his appearance was untidy, his movements were smooth and elegant, similar to that of a wild beast – albeit one also dragging his right arm behind him. This was the famed genius of the sword, Brain Unglaus.

Both these exemplary warriors of their generation were dragging the arms of a third figure behind them. “Next is the right,” Gazef was saying. “That’s the side where you don’t have your swords, Sir Caliban.”

“You don’t even trust me with ‘left’ or ‘right’?!” The man they were dragging exclaimed.

Both men exchanged looks with the shared suffering of two people who had spent weeks living with the same man who could get lost in a straight corridor. “Not at all.”

Gazef glared his way through the front guard of Ro Lente Castle. “His Majesty summoned you for an audience, so you can’t be late.”

“And if an idiot like you gets lost again, another whorehouse’s gonna go,” Brain added as they entered Valencia Palace proper. “Cutting through a hill is ridiculous enough as it is! We actually have to compensate those people!”

“...ah.” Caliban recalled the shady men who had sidled up to him and insinuated good kickbacks for a change in occupation. They threatened the deep cover of the Nazarick people. Caliban had nodded thoughtfully, and called over Corazón and the Nazarick maid slime to track them back to find their leaders.

The shady men never came back. Just because Caliban’s karma was at +500 did not equate to a corresponding lack of intelligence.

Caliban pondered again of the human that the Nazarick butler had taken a shine towards. It was not his position to say anything—indeed, when the slime had appealed to him, his first reaction was to shrug and say nothing. Caliban’s charity would not be fairly equated to the Admiralty’s orders. In fact, Quartermaster Nagato would have tossed him into the  _Mahogany_ ’sbrig just for thinking about it.

He was broken out of his reverie when Gazef finally said: “Your Majesty, I present Sir Caliban to you.”

“We acknowledge your assistance, Warrior-Captain. Mr Unglaus. Sir Caliban, have you brought your answer?”

Since the Fleet’s murder of messenger crows would have taken too long to bring the Fleet Admiral’s words to Re-Estize, another method was needed. The Fleet Admiral had used『Sound of the Ocean』by clamshell to conference instead, enunciating her answer clearly.

“We are pirates, who sail under no flag but that of our enterprise,” Caliban replied. “Should the hiring of our free company be the subject of Your Majesty’s enquiry, then a price must be haggled.”

By the King’s right hand, Gazef cringed. “I told him not to be so blunt...”

“No, I think this is subtle for him,” Brain whispered back to Gazef. “The blade, to him, is his instrument of speaking.”

Gazef subsided. “This man… he is so powerful, but I am afraid for him too.”

“Huh?” Brain hissed, careful to remain out of earshot of King Lanposa. “You’ve seen him, right? Those eyes belong only to someone who has killed before!”

“Not that meaning,” Gazef grimaced. “More like… a double-edged sword is powerful. But, both its target and its wielder could be cut with it. His Majesty is hiring a man like this… in fact, his minder too...”

Caliban’s voice rang clearly in the air. “My apologies. We will not accept this price. Admiral ordered it.”

“I see...『Kanashibari』.”1

Caliban drew a sword immediately. After the first few times, the guards had pretty much given up on having him give up his swords already. Only the fact that Gazef would physically throw himself in the way of any potential assassin still allowed Caliban the possession of all three katanas on his belt. It was pointless, though; the targets of the spell slumped over, unconscious and paralysed.

“This is-”

“A Yōkai paralysis skill. Especially used by the Uka-no-Mitama, as you know, Caliban.” Lanposa rested in his throne. The cruel smirk that played about his lips stood at odds with the mild-mannered elder that had spoken to him- no, it was the same-

“That is『Lady Aoi』.”2 Caliban assessed. “A spell that uses a summoned Yōkai to possess an enemy… or take over their minds with your own. The only one who could use that...”

“Precisely,” the King’s voice gloated as a short-haired girl in a fox-mask appeared next to the throne. “If I’m right, you should know of only one person who has my skills, Caliban. After all, you are a Yōkai. One that I created, at that. Or...these years spent wandering this continent has exposed you to more knowledge?”

His left hand slowly rose up, palm facing inwards as Caliban gave a salute towards the figure on the throne. “Fomori Fleet Third Division Commander Caliban… gives his greetings to Admiral Nurarihyon. The Fleet has only pulled bare months into port. A- Admiral Sycorax would have been happy to receive news from you, of all people.”

“Months? Well…she is always late, but the sight when she finally appears is unforgettable. I guess I can forgive her for that, especially…Say. If I were to fight for the seat of Fleet Admiral, who would you support?”

Caliban swallowed, even if the figure before him was physically human. The gold eyes and silver hair wrapped in war-gear loomed in his mind’s eye. “I am sorry. The Fleet Admiral has only ever been one person. Even if it is you who proposes change… I am the Fleet Admiral’s sword, Admiral Nurarihyon.”3

The smirk deepened, twisting the possessed King’s face even further. “That’s perfect. To prevent that, Caliban, you will take on the job.”

“The Fleet Admiral-” Caliban began.

“As a group, the Fomori won’t act. Sycorax-san already told you that. You alone, though, will be enough.” The King chuckled, vibrating with the controller’s intent sent into his body. “The fastest way to summon her was always to create some trouble and wait. So, what could be more troublesome than the massacre of an entire royal family~?”

“...in the original request, it was everyone except Princess Renner.”

“Well, it’s weird if only the Golden Princess survives,” the voice reasoned. “I trust you can handle most of the details, but the moment that woman hears that you did this, she’ll definitely rush over.”

“...I was originally sent here to meet the people from Nazarick. The Fleet Admiral will have to know.”

“Nazarick-” there was a pause. “Do tell, Caliban.”

The Yōkai swordsman contemplated. “Sycorax-sama could inform you better, Nurarihyon-sama.”

* * *

“You scurvy son of a biscuit eater!” The shell which had held『Sound of the Ocean』active broke as Sycorax smashed it against the marble top of a table in the  _Queen of the Night_ ’s grand cabin. “...I need another _horagai_.”

Standing at attention at the head of the longest and finest of the galley’s tables, a bespectacled maid shifted slightly, ill at ease in foreign surroundings. A wide blue ribbon-choker and her hair, twisted into a low-cropped bun at the back of her neck, hid the severing of her neck which marked her Dullahan race. Her dress held armour, but emphasised mobility rather than defence.

A conical shell thudded onto the table, and Sycorax cast the spell again. “So, I’m coming to kick your ass.”

“ _Huh? I didn’t hear from you in two years and this is the first reaction I get from you, Psycho?_ ”

“I don’t want to hear that from the guy who’s possessing another guy!” Sycorax snapped back. “So, can you get in touch with Yamaiko-san?”

“M- My creator is there?!” Yuri Alpha leapt in.

“ _W- Who’s that?_ _!_ ”

“I’ll tell you later,” Sycorax sighed. “Anyway, we’re already setting sail, don’t do anything rash.”

“... _do you think you can tell me what to do?_ ”

“You’ve never listened, why start now?! Leave Caliban out of this- Oi!” Sycorax groaned as the sound cut off. “That-!”

“Lady Sycorax, is Lady Yamaiko… there?” Yuri Alpha slowly spoke.

“Akemi-san too, if Tai-chan was right,” Sycorax gave a sharp nod, sighing. Her shoulders loosened. “Well… where’s Momonga? After we used『Gate』he should still be aboard.”

“Ah, Tit- I mean, Lady Titania took him to… get changed?”

Said Bardess swept in, leaving the echoes of great cheers behind her. “They’re all so friendly! Psycho-chan, look at him!”

Sycorax looked at him.

“It’s…good?” Momonga held up his hands. The Breton shirt left his collarbones exposed, and with it Titania had somehow dredged up streaked breeches and a thick red woollen sash to hold it up. A tricorn hat perched above a black bandanna wrapped around his skull, and from its three corners hung charms in the shape of shrunken heads. Wands and two daggers hung from the sash. Rings clacked from his fingers as he shifted, almost… almost fidgeting.

Yuri Alpha turned her head aside. “L- Lord Ainz! To be wearing such-”

“Wow, you look like a ghost pirate,” Sycorax exclaimed, barrelling over Yuri to get to Momonga and swing around his shoulders. From one hand, she released an orb-like camera – a cash item. It made a snap, and then Sycorax snapped her fingers to conjure a framed picture. “See? You look cool! Just like a pirate! Without the seaweed and the barnacles, but you get what I mean!”

“I do?” Momonga contemplated the picture. “I do! But I don’t get why I need to change-”

“If you’re aboard, you don’t have the luxury of wearing long clothes,” Sycorax explained, contemplating Yuri Alpha. “Speaking of which...”

“Ah? I- I-” Yuri clutched at the skirt of her dress. Each maid uniform was a creation of the Supreme Beings, to wear other clothes- it did not bear thinking about. “I’m sorry, Lord Ainz! To have neglected to pack extra clothes is a shame upon Nazarick-!”

“It can’t be helped. We came here to find Yamaiko-san, not to play,” the Elder Lich declared, reaching a hand out to Sycorax. “Sycorax-san...”

“Clothes...” Sycorax reached into her Item Box, drawing out a set of clothings. “Top-class: Marinière for the top, Plein-Vite for shoes, Papillon Noir for the leggings. Anything else required?”

“No...” Yuri bowed her head to receive the clothes. “You have been very kind.”

“Well, the ship is sailing… how about the grand tour?” Sycorax exclaimed. “The sea… the fleet, the-”

A hand on her shoulder prevented her from speaking further. “Fleet Admiral, we need you to compile the maps.”

“Psycho-chan, you need to catch up on your work,” Titania sang as she dragged Momonga behind her. “So, we’ll see you at dinner~”

“Ah, Tai-chan…!”

The lament carried on with the tolling of seven chimes across the poop deck of the  _Queen_. With their talons in the rigging and the spars, ravens croaked. Creaking and clacking of the crew at busy-work made an accompaniment. Momonga sucked in a long breath as he contemplated the sight of the sun, just breaking over the horizon to bathe the delicate ship of ice on the surface of the sea’s waves.

Titania opened her mouth, and began to recite:

  _  
Awaken from dreaming  
to the crying bird,  
and see the coming sunlight  
turn the east sky-blue;  
__S_ _hrouded_ _with_ _in mist  
is a __fleet_ _of ships_  
on the open sea. 4  
 

“This...” Momonga took a breath, sensing the sea air and the slight breeze carrying the ship across the mist at dawn. The poem echoed in his heart, and though his emotions were suppressed almost instantly, the joy in his heart burned at both the promise of exploring new lands, and the knowledge of an old friend at the journey’s end. The pangrammatic poem, unoriginal it was, encompassed every sentiment he had felt without repeating any of the forty-seven classic _hiragana_ characters. “...the ship… the fleet… is composed of ice? _How_?”

“You have good information,” Titania confirmed. “Yes, Canon-chan and all our crafters worked really hard on it. The basic theory of freezing water into a shape was exploited along with the properties of ice mixed with sawdust—the material pykrete, according to Rear Admiral-kun.”5

“Fascinating.” Momonga looked around. “And… where is the legendary treasure-”

Titania’s smile increased in force, while not actually physically changing. “Momonga-san. You’re not thinking of asking a group of pirates the location of their treasure, right~?”

“O- Of course not.” Momonga looked around. “It’s just curiosity. The fleet of Hostis Humani Generis is famous. I see that it is equally sustainable and beautiful. The magic used to make it is wonderful my heart… just beats.”

“Though you don’t have a heart,” Titania chirped. “Skull joke~”

She smiled. Momonga stared. Behind them, Yuri Alpha coughed.

“Erm…” Momonga shrugged. “Is that… One Piece too?”

“Yep!” Titania smiled. “You’ll see a Skeleton Bard with an afro around-”

“Afro?!”

“-that’s the Fleet’s Grand Conductor, wait, Squelette should be with the Seventh Division.”

“Ah...” Momonga contemplated. “I only know the  _Iroha Uta_.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the  _Iroha Uta_ ,” Titania contemplated. “Nurarihyon was the one who recited the  _Tori Naku Uta_  too. Do you want to try?”

Suzuki Satoru was not the type to break out into poetry. Yet, aboard a ship of ice at sunrise, contemplating the journey ahead and with the air of romance lingering about, he could not help himself. The poem came about in fits and starts:

  __  
Even the blossoming flowers  
Will eventually scatter  
Who in our world  
Is unchanging?  
The deep mountains of karma—  
We cross them today  
And we shall not have superficial dreams  
Nor be deluded. 6  
 

Clapping resounded. “That is a great poem, Lord Ainz!” Yuri praised, right into the staring faces of the two Vice-Admirals who had done double-takes at the applause. “It is worthy of the Supreme Beings who had created us! Truly, our master is a man of many arts!”

Momonga froze. “...sorry...” he mumbled.

“...they do this all the time?” Titania whispered back.

“Yes...”

“I feel sorry for you.”

“Don’t…!”

Having built up a rapport, music played with the passage of the  _Queen of the Night_. The majestic barque held steady on its course. Cries of a nautical nature resounded – ‘two points’ ‘get aloft’ ‘so much baggy-winkle’. Skeletons tapped their feet as they hauled lines. Fishmen hummed tunes in polyphony – right before they smacked one who had started whistling with a shout of ‘belay that noise!’. Momonga observed this all with much amusement onboard the flagship of the Fomori Fleet, currently on its way towards the Agrand continent.

“What’s wrong with whistling?” Momonga asked when the tour of the quarterdeck was complete, and he went under the deck.

“In nautical superstition, whistling challenges the wind, and calls up squalls,” Titania chirped, giving a lazy salute as the gunners below-deck stopped what they were doing to salute all three visitors. “Well-”

“Vice-Admiral Titania! Welcome back!” The gunners of the  _Queen’s_ crew crowed as one.

“Glad to be back- have you all met Momonga? He’s also part of the Admiralty.”

“We can tell! His aura commands awe!”

“Well, I have to keep giving Momonga the grand tour, so continue about your duties, men!”

“They’re so casual…!” Yuri moaned.

“Yeah,” Momonga slowly nodded as the gunners – Mephits and Fishmen alike – simply gave him a look of acknowledgement and a salute before moving on about their business. The Fomori were much less uptight in comparison to Nazarick’s overly stilted and formal salutes. They smiled and they laughed and they thumped each other over the silliest reasons.

Under the corner, Titania gave a cry as she leapt on a group of imps chattering around a card game. “I saw that! Gambling on duty’s forbidden in the Articles!” The Dragonkin dealer started a grunt of complaint, augmented with the protests of his fellow card-mates as they excused themselves from duty, it was their break, honest. Would the Vice-Admirals care to join in?

“Wanna play?” Titania smirked at Momonga.

“Er- I-”

“Come _on_!”

“Is a member of society supposed to advocate gambling?!”

* * *

_******1 Kanashibari ( 金縛り) is the Japanese term for sleep paralysis, a phenomenon when REM sleep overlaps with waking consciousness. Stories about Kanashibari go back all the way to ancient times, and it was attributed to a supernatural force enacted upon the body. The most common form of Kanashibari comes from possession.** _

 

_**2 Aoi no Ue ( 葵上, Lady Aoi) is a Muromachi period Japanese Noh play based on the character Lady Aoi from the Heian period novel Tale of Genji. In the backstory, Prince Genji, who was married to his wife Lady Aoi at a young age, has taken a mistress, Lady Rokujo. Following an episode in which she is humiliated in public by Lady Aoi, Rokujo is enraged to discover that Aoi is pregnant. Genji begins ignoring Rokujo, and in her jealousy her living spirit leaves her body and possesses Lady Aoi, resulting in Aoi's death.** _

_**3 The use of the word ‘Admiral’ here refers to Taishō ( 大将), a rank below Sycorax’s rank of Fleet Admiral/Grand Admiral (元帥Gensui, also called 海軍大将 Kaigun Taishō).** _

_**4 This is the Japanese pangram, Tori Naku Uta. The Japanese Romaji is: Torinakukowesu/ yumesamase/ miyoakewataru/ hinkashiwo/ sorairohaete/ okitsuheni/ hofunemurewinu/ moyanōchi.** _

_**5 In this case, Rear Admiral ( リアミルラル) is the guy’s online handle.** _

_**6 This is the most famous Japanese pangrammatic poem, the Iroha. Subsequently, all pangrammatic poems are referred to as ‘iroha-uta’ in Japanese for this reason. The modern Romaji goes like this: Iro wa nioedo/ Chirinuru o/ Wa ga yo tare zo/ Tsune naramu?/ Ui no okuyama/ Kyō koete/ Asaki yume miji/ Ei mo sezu.** _


	39. XXXVII: Binnacle List

 

Within the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Demiurge knocked upon a door gently. Naturally, the owner was out, but Demiurge’s actions were still those of respect. For Demiurge, this space deserved respect.

Demiurge entered the room when only silence greeted him. After looking around, he didn’t see the room’s actual owner – who was out – nor the one whom he was looking for. Sighing, he opened another door and entered the interior.

The suites of the Supreme Beings were extravagant — a large bath, bar counter, living room with a piano, master bedroom, guest room, kitchen for personal chefs, walk-in wardrobe and many other rooms populated each suite.

In this case, Demiurge went for the master bedroom without hesitation, knocked and opened the door. There was a bed in the room, its large size extravagant beyond anything that could be conceived of in this world, with a canopy of diaphanous white hanging above its head.

A lump was squirming under the brocade covers.

“Albedo,” Demiurge reprimanded.

A beautiful face emerged from under the covers. Her face was pink with excitement, and her bare shoulders could be seen from his vantage point. It took nothing for him to deduce that she was probably naked underneath.

“…What are you doing here?” he followed up.

“I want Lord Ainz to be surrounded by my scent when he returns.”

Demiurge stared at the highest ranking NPC, the newly reinstated Guardian Overseer of the Grand Tomb of Nazarick fresh from her incarceration after the last mess. The obvious points about their lord being an Undead, or the fact that the Homunculi Maids’ regular cleaning schedule would remove Albedo’s scent, were not mentioned.

“I received a「Message」from Lord Ainz, updating us about his situation,” he began without preamble.

Albedo’s fingers clenched, and her features froze, her beauty marred by an expression of fury. She had been restless – much more than expected, but understandable since her release and return to her station following her punishment, only for the great master of Nazarick to be away from his residence, as if hardly bearing to look at her save where needed to pass along his instructions. Her restlessness could only be attributed to the fact that she was stuck in Nazarick, while her beloved lord was sailing with a white-haired slattern.

Still… Despite the conclusion of her punishment, the fact that she had yet to be replaced as Overseer of the Guardians meant something, right? It meant that she could make up for her mistake in raising her hand against a Supreme Being, no matter how newly minted, yes? Oh, she hoped to elevate herself in the Overlord’s eyes…

“The Fomori representative cut a castle. We’ll have to suspend Operation Gehenna, perhaps reschedule it.”

“What, that’s it?” Albedo scoffed, but then her golden eyes widened. “He cut...the castle? The Kingdom’s Castle? _That_ castle?”

“...Yes.”

Albedo’s lips curled. “Looks like outsiders were really as dumb as we knew. Right, Ainz-sama~?”

_Looks like this is my chance~! Anything for my lord!_

Demiurge was stunned beyond words. He thought it was Ainz Ooal Gown for an instance, but it lacked depth and the presence. “Is that… A hug pillow of Ainz-sama...? Who made it?”

“I made it myself.”

The fast reply made Demiurge slightly open his eyes. He didn’t think Albedo had such skills.

“Be it cleaning, laundry or sewing skills, I am at the level of professionals,” Albedo boasted delightfully to Demiurge’s shocked expression. “For the child that might be born in the future, I had made clothes and socks. All the way to five years old. Either boys or girls would be fine… ah! What about dual-sex or sexless?”

Her smiles and cackles just left Demiurge with a certain exasperation at the madness of his technical superior. Sycorax-sama never obsessed like this. Sycorax-sama _was_ obsessed with food, but that was understandable considering her status as a living being. Furthermore, the fact that she was a Supreme Being as recognised by their lord made her status higher than the creations of the Supreme Ones.

It was therefore with great pleasure that he said: “Don’t go overboard. Sycorax-sama might notice your scent too, and then we would all have to explain to the Supreme Ones.”

He closed the door in time for a muffled thump to impact against it, with a scream of rage echoing in its wake.

It then occurred to him that, he had forgotten to tell her about the new plan…

The scream echoed with a sound of something else being tossed at the door – and considering it was Albedo, her augmented strength still made the thump sound sinister.

_Maybe later._

* * *

“Demiurge just sent me a「Message」,” Momonga relayed over an early dinner on the quarter-deck. Being Undead, neither he nor Yuri Alpha actually ate, but the platter of deep-fried horse mackerel with Japanese pepper on a bed of lettuce, paired with sweet potato fries with Tartar sauce, still looked tempting to the human part of him.

“ _Om nom_ -!” Sycorax’s later flailing indicated that the horse mackerel was choking her, causing Titania to thump her on the back and fetch a tankard from the carafe left on the quarterdeck. Yuri Alpha patted Sycorax’s back as the Fleet Admiral straightened up. Her eyes glazed over as she listened to Momonga talking, and then when it was time to give her two cents...

“Psycho-chan, don’t talk while you’re eating,” Titania scolded, but she was smiling. “Momonga-san? Caliban’s situation.”

“No, I’ll wait. It’s nothing that we didn’t expect at this point.” Momonga patted the shoulder covered in long white locks of hair before his attention turned back to the vast expanse of the ship he was aboard, from his view above-deck.

Even though he could not derive pleasure from eating, the very sight of even one ship from the Fomori Fleet aroused his curiosity. The deck floor, the gunwales, the masts were composed of ice – cloudy at some parts, fogged in others. Even the riggings, the door, the handle, and the bolts on the hinges were of the same material – some of which made Momonga wonder whether they could even work or not. The walls and floor glowed, especially under the late afternoon sun.

Looking down, the  _Queen of the Night_  seemed to be a replica of an ancient battleship, with ten translucent cannons extended from each side. Despite its size and weight, the exact dimensions of which he had had no time to consider, it slid across the surface of the sea at an unexpectedly fast speed – though whether by magic or by some mechanism, he could not tell.

Momonga prodded the deck with his finger. It was definitely something similar to ice – sticky upon contact. However, it was not cold; rather, it felt like some grainy plastic or other polymer.

“Pykrete, made of wood and sawdust,” Momonga mused.

It was common knowledge that ice freezes at zero degrees Celsius under atmospheric pressure. However, under certain conditions the freezing and boiling points could be changed. The ships made from One Piece, Sycorax explained, had been composed from basic ice magic utilising this very principle of changing the melting and freezing points of ice mixed with sawdust. Thus, even if it was ice, the floor was not slippery, since the ice did not melt upon skin contact into water and reduce friction. This ice, instead of melting and giving way upon contact with a hard object, instead resisted back with its own hardness.

The ship’s bell in its belfry began to ring: _ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting_.

“Seven PM Fleet time,” Sycorax moved towards the ship’s wheel, the better to consult a gimballed stand next to the binnacle that a luminous compass needle suspended within a glass orb. The gimballed stand itself held two more ticking clocks. “Momonga, when we get back, remind me if time zones apply in this world.”

“Huh? Time zones?” Momonga echoed in confusion. As a normal salaryman who had barely studied past high school, time zones were irrelevant to him whose business never took him out of Japan. His superiors might have recommended some other more talented individuals to overseas trips on business with other branches, but Suzuki Satoru was a salaryman working the daily grind. Time zones were very much irrelevant as a concept to Suzuki Satoru and gaming in YGGDRASIL.

“YGGDRASIL claims to operate on the Nine Worlds model,” Sycorax shrugged, pointing to the binnacle stand. “Setting a course aboard a ship in YGGDRASIL usually involves simply inputting the destination into that Magic Compass and then aligning the ship’s bearing to follow its direction. Aboard my first ship the  _Bourreau_ , I set the courses and then plotted by dead reckoning, working out that the game engine internally oriented compass directions by projecting the Half TERRA model over nine great circles – I figured out a technical detail to exploit,” Sycorax amended when Momonga began to look elsewhere furtively and Titania openly turned her attention away. “Working out a coordinate system actually required use of the z-axis – we never got to raid all the sky palaces of Asgard in our final map for various reasons.”

“I should think not!” Momonga relaxed on the quarter-deck, watching the busywork of even the ship’s captain at her meal. “So… what does this mean?”

“The data we uncovered included astronomical data, though woefully thin on data,” Sycorax told him. “From there I figured out five different stars by which to calculate latitude. That’s degrees north or south, by the way. As for longitude – degrees east or west – that’s where the clocks come in. They’re magic, not pendulum, so the swaying doesn’t affect them – though I’m curious about the degree of accuracy a magical marine chronometer actually possesses.”

“...huh?” All the technical information flowed into one ear and through Momonga’s brain.

“...” Sycorax brandished a map of the new world, upon which the stars marked out points pre-determined by「Compass Rose」, including Nazarick. “Let’s say that Nazarick is coordinate zero-zero north and east.” A pair of zeroes bracketed by a parenthesis were written by her pen. “Using certain stars with mathematical calculation and adjusting for seasons, we can work out how many degrees north from Nazarick we are. That is the _latitude_. For longitude, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west – that implies that the earth itself rotates. With me so far?”

“Yes.”

“So, given that we are on a _moving_ ship, it kind of makes it more difficult to determine accurately how far east or west we are from Nazarick, especially since the ship is moving in the opposite or faster direction of the Earth’s rotation,” Sycorax summed up. “The rotation of the Earth also determines that, across the globe, local time changes, and there are twenty-four hourly changes in our world’s time-zone determination. One line for every hour of the day. This is called _longitude_.”

She traced an almost-straight line up from Nazarick towards the island marked as the Fleet’s current base of operations. “Nazarick and Pantaleone lie along the same projected meridian, so I took the liberty to also assign this meridian as the theoretical prime meridian in making a map of the continent.”

It took a while to digest all of this. “Oh… so, Nazarick is the zero coordinate in your map? Why?”

“Easier to pick a spot on dry land,” Sycorax wryly replied. “Pantaleone is a floating island – the results-”

“-won’t be accurate,” Momonga nodded; it made sense. “I see. Did you find any other maps or lore?”

“The intelligence department is still data mining,” Sycorax made a face. “I ordered them to pick through maps, but it takes time.”

“Of course.” Without the convenience of computers, obviously information took a longer time to process. Momonga could not fault Sycorax, especially not since he was aboard her ship. His next inquiries, though, were interrupted by a jingle of bells.

“Psycho-chan,” Titania, having fallen silent for a long time, finally burst out. “Watch me dance!”

A throe of cheers echoed as sailors of the  _Queen_ , barely an hour into the first dog watch, began to see one of the Admiralty doing-

“Is that… belly-dancing?” Momonga shied his eyes away, though the crew obviously did not share his sentiments. A Skeleton parked on the quarter-deck, guitar in hand as it strummed and began playing a tune which had Titania stomping before a quartet of Fishmen lifted her onto a barrel to gyrate upon. “Erm...”

“Flamenco isn’t rated, otherwise the Succubi would never have appeared,” Sycorax clapped her hands in a one-two beat. “Tai-chan, faster!”

“Can she even… do that in public?” Momonga winced as the Sidhe Bardess did a split, causing a wave of wolf-whistles as her skirts lifted in a swing of bell-ridden ankles. Her red tresses, now in a single scorpion braid, made to swing around her neck in a suggestive fashion.

“Wherever we go, we go!” Sycorax spread her arms out to the sea, to the wind blowing in their wake, even to the distant horizon towards which they raced against the sun to reach. “A ship isn’t just a keel, hull, deck and sails. That’s what she needs, not what she _is_. But a ship…a safety against the elements and the sea…this is our freedom!”

The wind whistled. The sails billowed, almost alive as it groaned and slid across the North Sea, aglow with magic both in the very rivets of its composition and the soul which she ferried within her stays on a course soon to be decided by the stars. Whistles turned to howls – howls different from the winds of the sea, and more like the advancement of a host of enemies.

The sun was obscured. A murky cloud loomed overhead, causing the men to abandon their merrymaking. The tension had ratcheted up as the previous party mood was gone.

“Ready the guns.”

Their Admiral’s quiet decision kicked two Fishmen to jump down the hatch. On the main deck was a hum of activity to load smaller cannons in preparation as the cloud moved – and move it did, composed of a swarm of creatures ugly and deformed and weird and strange enough to arise from the demons of the human imagination, in this very hour.

“...” Sycorax grimaced as a glimmer was sighted. “Starboard guns maximum elevation. Half-volley. Fire!”

The ice trembled. Even Momonga seized a gunwale to keep his balance as the resultant recoil caused the ship to rock. A formidable projectile of metal smashed into a bronze-tipped arrow and exploded, destroying the other projectile.

A white cloth fluttered overhead. It grew, long enough to write like cursive. Momonga squinted as it superimposed itself against the purple dusk.

“Ya–me–te [Stop].”

The ribbon then flattened itself at the head of the cloud – a host of beings, Momonga could see. At the head of the veritable army floated a carriage with an ogre’s face at its front, driven without any animal hitched to it but more out of supernatural power. Its cartwheels creaked as it hovered, two balls of light floating at its head before someone climbed out from its confines onto the roof. That individual brandished a bow and nocked another arrow to let loose – it tore through the mizzen course in hurtling towards the Fleet Admiral.

“That little-”

Sycorax reached up with her left hand. Her fingers curled around a shaft of wood, stopping the serrated bronze tip of the arrow from moving any further. The feathers at the other end were white – pure white and crackling with electricity, the type only gotten from a certain bird in YGGDRASIL. The feathers crackled some more before a sharp albescent light shone from the arrow under the paper tied to its shaft.

The shaft broke under Sycorax’s grip, and the light died.

“Oh...” The paper on its shaft was untied and unfolded, before Sycorax tore it apart. Ink from its surface bubbled and separated, floating in the air as the characters faded into the ether – a talisman. A voice echoed:

  __  
“Though the stream be divided  
by a boulder in its swift flow,  
I know the twain  
shall soon meet again.” 1  
 

“...” The arrow broke some more. “...you little bastard.”

The crew started as a pair of feet in clogs thudded onto the front deck, right behind the bowsprit. The clogs themselves led up to a pair of feet in white _tabi_ socks, then under a dark blue _hakama_ matched with a _kimono_ worn under a black jacket studded with emblems – five crests of the Taijitsu symbol all in white, stark against the black. The wearer himself had dark hair, which hung loose and matted behind his graceful features and red eyes, almost human-like. Almost, because there was some sinister air about him.

“If you believe that the things you love is the key to your salvation, then you may be reborn as many times as you like.”

The creature – for Momonga could barely believe it to be human, currently – gave a smile. “You’re late, _Captain_.”

Sycorax’s hand moved, and he barely dodged her punch.

“ _STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY SHIP!_ ” She yelled, pointing up to where the previous arrow had torn a hole through the mizzen course on its way. “If I’m late, what does that say about _you_?! Is this a battle?! Did you come here to pick a fight with me?!”

“Dammit, that nearly hit me… were you seriously trying to kill me, snake-hair?!” Nurarihyon snarled back in the face of her tirade. “I came all the way out here to pick you up, the least you could do is not shoot me!”

“You shot first!” Sycorax bit back. “I always say, white flag _first_. Then colours to identify. What were you going to do if that wasn’t us?!”

Watching two of the guild Hostis Humani Generis’ top fighters start a quarrel, Momonga sidled to the side to hiss to Titania: “Does this happen… all the time?”

“Just leave it...” the redhead sighed, having seated herself atop the barrel she had been dancing upon to watch the current situation.

As the quarrel wound down, Sycorax wound her arms about the other’s torso.

“I missed you too, _boy_.”

“I missed you too, _hag_.”

They broke apart, and then Sycorax decked him on the chin.

“Now we’re even,” she huffed. “Now, Nurarihyon. _What did you make Caliban do?_ ”

* * *

_**1 Ogura Hyakunin Isshu, poem #77.** _


	40. XXXVIII: Boomkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL stuff happened, hence the long delays... this chapter is very talky, so please bear with me, and read the end notes.
> 
> \- LLS

 

Aboard the  _Queen of the Night_  was a mass of activity, Phaeton sighted as he hovered above the ship in his charge, the _Spruce_. “Phaeton to  _Cedar_. Activity sighted aboard _Queen_.”

「“The  _Queen_ is moving? Strange. I’ll hail them.”」

Phaeton’s hands immediately unslung his bow from his back, already stringing its bowstring along the limbs of the longbow. Still in the slipstream about the topgallants, the Birdman alighted within the crow’s nest, already nocking an arrow to draw.

「“All clear on the front deck. Hmm... it’s an Oboroguruma. And the only ones who can summon one... oh. Looks like Admiral Nurarihyon tracked us down at last.”」

“Admiral Nurarihyon? That’s...” Phaeton hesitated. “That person... the executioner... do you think he will challenge the Fleet Admiral?”

「“I don’t know. Given Admiral Nurarihyon’s personality, he could do anything. Didn’t my creator Vice-Admiral Librobum Prohibitorum say so? There _are_ some diametrically opposite personalities amongst the Admiralty... ”」

“What will you do?”

「“Hmm?”」

“If, the Admiral was to execute one of us again... not all of us could have the Fleet Admiral’s reprieve.”

It took a while for Phaeton to decide.

He did not like his final decision.

「“The Quartermaster picked us up!”」Ariel hailed back.「“It really is Admiral Nurarihyon! She’s prepared to activate Crossroads to...”」

“...” Phaeton exhaled. “She is to be admired. Our Quartermaster is really prepared to defend the crew to the extent of sacrificing herself without a certainty of revival. Even against the Admiralty... no, in fact, Admiral Nurarihyon may be the greatest threat to the crew.”

* * *

They convened at the great cabin. The hemispherical map projector had been set on a nearby drawing-board with its accompanying drafts, clearing the table for two Skeleton ratings to cart in...

“Your tea set, Captain.” the lead skeleton motioned as the ratings laid it out on the crystalline ice table. Made of clear glass, four teacups sat placidly in their saucers, placid like stones in a lake. A clear amber tea free of debris bubbled within an equally clear cube-shaped glass teapot atop a steel warmer. It made the silvered eight-point star at the bottom of all the crockery the only mark upon the clear glass.

“Acknowledged.” Sycorax sat herself in the main chair. “Leave us.”

“It doesn’t look complete,” Nurarihyon demurred, taking up another chair across the table to face her. “『Tsukumogami』.”

“...” Sycorax said nothing as a raccoon-dog with the body of a teapot appeared. “So? Is this a hint?”

“No,” Nurarihyon demurred as he pulled out a portable brazier from his Item Box. The raccoon-dog transformed in a puff of smoke, and a cast-iron kettle began to puff away. “Your hands are shifting.”

“...I hate it when you’re right, boy.” Sycorax drew her hands tighter.

“Reptiles are sensitive to cold, Psycho.” His lips twitched, but then his attention finally turned towards the other two occupants in the room. “But where are my manners? You have found Titania... and another person.”

“Ainz-san brought his guild base along too,” Sycorax briskly started pouring out tea. “I know this tea is useless, but drink it to see if your body can accept taste from a Level 100 Chef.”

“Oh, I know I can taste,” Nurarihyon said at the same time that the white-haired Nagini passed a pre-prepared teacup filled halfway towards Momonga.

The Elder Lich awkwardly took a chair and then a sip. The teacup, now emptied without a mess all over Ainz’s borrowed clothes, was set back into its saucer. “Hmm... interesting.”

“It was worth asking Cutty Sark to brew this after all,” Sycorax observed as Titania took her own cup from her. “Nurarihyon. Your appearance was a surprise, though not as much as you thought since Tai-chan is here as well, as is the rest of the Fleet. I think you have an... _interesting_ proposition.”

“I subjugated the country next to the human kingdom,” Nurarihyon flippantly replied as he accepted his own cup and took a swig. “Hmm... what is this?”

“Black Dragon. Also known as, Oolong. Harvested from the garden on the Sequoia, and then processed aboard the _Totara_.” Sycorax replied. “Cutty Sark’s processing it grants immunity against sleep and agility increase by about... twenty percent? I’m not too sure. What would you call it?”

Nurarihyon pondered it for a moment. “Genron.”1

“...you were always unoriginal,” Sycorax remarked, taking a sip of her own cup. “Now... I assume that this wasn’t a social call, because you would not have wasted MP on tracking my ship down. Shall I assume that you are going to continue on the terms of our... business?”

“Yes.”

“Business?” Ainz broke in.

“ _Ainz_.” Nurarihyon’s eyes fell onto Yuri and considered. “You took your guild’s name as your own. Hmm...”

“Nurarihyon,” Sycorax broke in. “ _Business_. The country next door. You are controlling the King?”

“For all the good it does,” the dark-haired being smiled – it was the most sinister thing Ainz had seen, even compared to Demiurge’s. “That political situation is just waiting to collapse in on itself. You got the nobility and the royalty in power struggles, no centralised political sphere, barely even a veneer of civilisation. All that rottenness concentrated in Re-Estize would create a _Gashadokuro_ or two.”

“But you commanded Caliban through your puppet to take Gazef Stronoff out,” Sycorax’s bottom lip curled. “There is a plan. A particular narrative, a hero escapes from difficulty and goes to recruit others to save his country. If I know you, we just disrupted your hobby.”

“A hobby,” Ainz echoed. He turned to Nurarihyon. “You think starting a war is a _hobby_.”

“...” Nurarihyon tilted his head.

Between the two of them, even with the darkness in the depths of Ainz’s exposed skull and the burning amber light in his pupils, it would be possible to concede that neither of them seemed to hold any deep love for humanity at heart. Yet, it seemed as though the Elder Lich had more care for humanity than the one who actually looked human.

“The purpose of hypnotising a king, beginning a struggle, and then swooping in, hopefully to crown myself king...” Nurarihyon mused. “It was the easiest way to gain the world’s attention. You could call it a bet.”

Inwardly, Ainz shuddered.

Suzuki Satoru could see it; he had no illusions that Nurarihyon, underneath the handsome mask and veneer of humanity, was like himself, perhaps more. One did not simply become the top percentile of all players in YGGDRASIL by sheer luck, and when that gaming ability became realised... at the start, did he feel awe at his own abilities? Did he eagerly toss spells and summon all manner of monsters? The Onmyoji class was one summoner job sub-class with the fastest summon rate and plenty of exclusive monsters, so perhaps. Did all his joy fade into the humdrum of daily life, such strength existing with barely a purpose?

Was he truly willing to trade the millions of lives which would have been lost due to such reckless actions, just for _something to do_?

“What?” purred the monster with the face of a human, holding up a human-like appendage to count off phalanges. “It scared up a fleet and the Captain at its helm, am I wrong? Let’s just find the others. I’ve already found... Surimi and Himejako – those two are really creepy – ah, Xiaobao, Icarus and Libby...”

“Huh?”

“Librobum Prohibitorum,” Titania clarified. “Well, the crazy monsters on par with Nurarihyon himself are really Kladenets, Mano, and CAM. If the Fleet Admirals and Admirals are the central commanders in a squadron, and the Rear-Admirals are the rear-guard and auxiliary forces-”

“-then, two out of five parts of Hostis Humani Generis’ main command has already been found,” Ainz concluded.

“Ah, speaking of which... the sis-con Akemi followed Yamaiko around the Agrand,” Nurarihyon was saying then.

Beside Ainz, the ruler of the dead could feel a subtle tension from one particular Pleiades. “Y- Yamaiko-sama?”

“...Momonga. You brought an NPC?”

“Ah...” Ainz coughed. “I go by the name Ainz in this world-”

“Like I care,” came the rebut. “You can be a damn squirrel, or even the overlord of death Ainz Ooal Gown, and it still wouldn’t change the fact that you’re still a straight.”

“Huh? _Suteraito_?””

“You know,” Nurarihyon smirked, “a totally RPG-”

“If you have nothing to add, Nurarihyon, then shut up,” Sycorax cut in. “Or is this coming from a ‘slippery gourd’? You could have been a Kitsune, Inugami, Tanuki, or even a Tsuchigumo, but you chose to advance your race as a  _Shōnen Jump_ character. As a _yōkai_ , you’re the totally straight one. Remember _who_ is here.”

Nurarihyon had been poking fun of Momonga’s RPG-centred approach to choosing his racial and job classes, calling them fully orthodox. To defend Momonga – and deflect from Yuri Alpha, who was growing more and more livid at the disrespect being paid to the overlord – Sycorax had stepped in and brought up the character from which Nurarihyon based his own... from a _sh_ _ō_ _nen_ manga which had already ended almost a century ago. Nurarihyon dipped his head imperceptibly towards Yuri’s direction, at which Sycorax held up her teacup once more.

“Psycho-chan, that’s mean,” Titania simpered. “After all, that’s the lord of the monsters and ghosts, you know?”

“I don’t want to hear that from characters in Shakespeare plays!” the dark-haired amber-eyed monster shaped as a man snapped back. “From the donkey-lover, or from the snake maverick who can’t stop running into trouble even without legs!”

“If we can recover the conversation...” Momonga sighed.

“Ah, of course. The situation.” Sycorax set down her cup, having drunk it all the way to the dregs. “We are onboard my flagship to hunt down Yamaiko-san and Akemi-san. They were supposed to be on the same landmass as Nurarihyon. However, the immature brat left his kingdom-”

“Oi!”

“-and is starting up something with the human kingdom to summon a Gashadokuro,” Sycorax drummed a tattoo on the ice which made up the grand cabin’s table. In the rolling grand cabin, she looked every bit a professional sailor, despite the eye-patch and the lack of formality in her outfit. “A Gashadokuro is powerful, I’ll grant that, but it’s not the strongest Shikigami that you’re capable of, Nurarihyon. I assume that you’re taking up a challenge- no. You’re planning a Birdcage.”

“Hmm?” Momonga hummed. “I haven’t heard that in YGGDRASIL-”

“It’s our internal code,” Titania clarified again. “Basically, using the city itself to hem its citizens in, Nurarihyon plans to unleash the Gashadokuro. The monster, which in YGGDRASIL powers up and gains HP with every life it consumes, will then grow within the city confines.”

“This way, all he has to do is wait until reinforcements arrive to investigate what happens to the kingdom, only to find that the Kingdom’s capital has been annihilated overnight,” Sycorax concluded. “If we factor in the possessed king, this could be played further into some other excuse. Afterwards, all Nurarihyon needs to do is claim some ridiculous excuse to invade and seize territory. Ideally, you would seize the coasts along the North Sea. The fact that you can summon an Uka-no-Mitama also means more help With your passive skills, keeping them manifested longer doesn’t drain your MP at all. First blush, not a bad tactic. After all, there was completely no expectations that anyone on site at that kingdom would be able to beat a level 85 Uka-no-Mitama, much less the level 95 Gashadokuro. But now we have the spies from Nazarick to worry about.”

“Solution doesn’t have the power, but between Sebas and Shalltear...” Momonga hung his head.

“Huh? You mean the loli True Vampire Valkyrie that you guys put to guard the first through third floors?” At Momonga’s look, Nurarihyon gave a shrug. “You guys were invaded once. Do you really think that people don’t talk? We sabotaged a few other guilds who wanted to go for the Great Tomb Invasion, Round 2.”

 _How much does he know?_ Momonga screamed internally. Momonga’s shoulders hunched. “Thank you...” He did not exactly want a player on Nurarihyon’s calibre knowing about Nazarick’s front-line defences.

“...the circumstances must change.” Sycorax snapped her fingers, and a lock of her hair animated itself to extend and consult the scrolls put to one side of the cleared table. “Rewriting orders. First, Momonga and I must find Akemi-san and Yamaiko-san. Tai-chan, you’re going with Nurarihyon to settle this mess.”

“Ha?!” Titania leapt to her feet again. “Psycho-chan...”

“「Pied Piper」,” Sycorax quoted, referring to a special Dancer skill which was used for field control. “We can buy time by locking down the city now. Momonga, would you... we... well...”

“I will message Shalltear. This time, she, and by extension Sebas and Solution, will take instruction from Nurarihyon-san, then.” Momonga glowered at the Yōkai Onmyoji. “If anything happens to my subordinate...”

“...Sheesh,” Nurarihyon sighed. “Are you low on YGGDRASIL gold, Momonga?”

“It’s- none of your business!”

“Fine, fine. I have revival spells, is that enough?”

“Fine. Nurarihyon, be wary of any World Items,” Sycorax instructed. “Nurarihyon, you still have your-”

“I have it,” he quickly interrupted, not fast enough to arouse Ainz’s collector spirit.

“What Item-”

“The two of you will play act as standard evil overlord.” Sycorax’s lips thinned. “The Fleet will keep updated with you – arrange matters with Nagato. I hate this, but... my priority is still to find our scattered friends. Other things don’t matter to me. If anything goes wrong, you are to _disengage_. As Captain, I order you, and any others whom you pick, to return alive and intact. We will catch up at a later time.”

“Yes/Aye, Captain!”

* * *

So involved were the newly returned Admirals, that the sight of their heavily armed NPCs outside on the grand cabin did not give them pause.

“F- Fleet Admiral on the deck!” A row of salutes was quickly snapped.

“From the Second and Fifth Divisions, Commanders Ariel and Phaeton pay their respects to the Fleet Admiral, Admiral Nurarihyon, and Vice-Admirals Titania and Momonga!” The Birdman and Sylph made their respective salutes.

“Men!” Sycorax snapped. “Admiral Nurarihyon has returned with great news! Some of you will be thrown into battle! The Admiral and Vice-Admiral will select their own teams and depart via 「Gate」. The rest of you, make ready for a change in course! All hands on deck! Shape up that course! We’re going to find our lost comrades!”

* * *

**1 JP:  玄龙 Black dragon**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider visiting my tumblr [here](lalunaticscribe.tumblr.com)! While you're there, also consider buying me a Coffee!
> 
> \- LLS


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